


comment fic

by ohmcgee



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Marvel (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Comment Fic, Drabbles, Gen, Highschool AU, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 19,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3447800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>miscellaneous drabbles written for comment_fic @ LJ</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You go to Bucky when you feel like you don’t belong in your own skin anymore, when all you can think about is darkness and dirt under your nails, suffocating under the earth. You go to Bucky to forget about the rush you get every time you steal the life from someone, or maybe you go to be able to share it, because you know he’ll appreciate it. 

With Bucky it feels like being taken apart, layer by layer: _Jason, Robin, dead Robin, killer._ He knows exactly who you are and he wants every part of you, roughs you up, gets his hands and teeth all over you, makes you forget about who you were and who you are, doesn’t judge you for either one. With Bucky you don’t have to be anyone. 

With Dick you will always be Jason and he will always be disappointed.


	2. Chapter 2

“This isn’t you, Jason.”

Jason laughs; it comes out hollow, dripping with bitterness and years of bottled up hatred. “You don’t know me, Grayson. Not anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Dick says, dodging the throwing dagger Jason hurls at him. “I don’t care how many times you try to kill me, Jason. You’ll always be that little kid to me, the one who thought being Robin was the best thing that ever happened to him. And I think deep down you know he’s still a part of you. You just have to -”

Jason leaps out of the shadows and punches Dick in the mouth, then puts his boot in Dick’s gut, sending him to the ground. “Do yourself a favor and stop lying to yourself, Grayson. That starry-eyed kid? Got beat to death with a crowbar. He’s dead, Dick.”

Dick spits blood on the gravel. “So what are you now, then?”

“Something new.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m sorry to do this,” Tim says, sounding not very sorry at all, really. “But I can’t let you interfere this time. I need this guy _alive_.”

Jason snorts and pulls against the knots, testing their strength. “Not bad, Red. The Bat send you to S&M school to learn how to tie knots like that?”

Tim ignores him.

“You know I don’t usually let people tie me up on the first date, but if that’s what gets you off.” He grins and pokes at the split in his lip with his tongue. “You know, I’ve got some reinforced handcuffs back at my place. We could just skip the foreplay here and --”

“God, do you ever shut up?” Tim asks, but when he snaps his neck toward Jason, he’s pink in the cheeks.

“Look at you, _blushing_ like a schoolboy. You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“You realize Batman will be here any second?”

Jason grins. “Not here yet. Tell me, Red. You think about it a lot? Tying me up, maybe shoving something in my mouth so you don’t have to listen to me while you have your freaky way with me?”

Tim looks around for something to shove in his mouth _now._

“You do, don’t you? It’s cool, I get it. You can’t hang around with Bats for as long as you have and not end up with some kind of dark fetish. I bet Nightwing gets up to all kinds of kinky--”

“It’s not a _fetish_ ,” Tim snaps before he can even think about it, cursing himself for letting Jason get to him. But fuck it now, he’s already basically given him everything. He walks over to where he’s tied Jason up to a pole and kneels down in front of him. “But yeah I fantasize about making you _shut the hell up._ Tying you up somewhere, stripping you naked, and _leaving_ you there.” He smirks as Jason squirms. “Maybe it’d teach you a damn lesson.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Jason grins.

Tim shakes his head. “Of course not, you’ll never learn. That’s why they call it a fantasy, Jason. Because it will _never_ happen.”

Tim isn’t expecting the boot straight to his solar plexus, or for Jason to come lunging at him -- those knots were _perfect_ \-- knocking him straight onto his back. He tries to suck in air after having the breath knocked out of him, but with Jason’s full weight on top of him it proves difficult. 

“Never say never, sweetheart,” he says, flashing a predatory grin. “Next time let’s try those handcuffs.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tim keeps track of the days in his head, remembers the dates better than his own birthday or the day he finally became Robin. He remembers the exact day he noticed Batman was different. Alone.

Every year he put flowers on Jason’s grave, pulls out the scrapbook he keeps secret and hidden before bed and his heart hurts as his fingers skimmed over the photos of the smiling boy, so full of joy and life. Every year he remembered him.

Until he didn’t have to anymore. Then he had another day to remember.

Tim keeps track of the days and every year he thinks of how scared and alone Jason must have felt, even though he’s never talked to any of them about that night. He hides behind heavy bravado and even heavier artillery, but Jason can cover his face with as many masks and garish hoods as he wants and Tim will still be able to see right through them, through _him._

So he finds him, every year, no matter where on the globe he is. Sometimes he just watches, makes sure he’s not alone, makes sure he’s warm and fed and doing something to distract himself from what day it is, even if it does happen to be blowing up a warehouse full of unsuspecting idiots. Sometimes they patrol together or Jason lets him tag along on a case when he offers to help and promises not to slow him down. Sometimes the day is too fresh in Jason’s mind, the memories too raw and jagged and tearing at his sanity and it doesn’t go nearly as friendly, Tim’s mouth bleeding beneath his fist until Jason can’t feel his knuckles anymore. 

This year Jason’s just sitting on the edge of a roof Tim frequents on patrol, legs dangling over the edge, like he’s waiting for him. 

“You know you’re kind of a stalker?” Jason mutters, exhaling a cloud of white smoke without looking Tim’s way. 

Tim smiles and settles in next to him as they wait for tomorrow to roll around. “So I’ve been told.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t get it,” Dick says, pulling at his hair. “I just. I don’t get it.”

“Hasn’t Todd tried to kill him three separate times?”

“Four.”

“Actually I think they’ve lost count,” Steph adds. 

Dick stares at her. He looks a little green around the edges. “I don’t get it.”

“So i gathered,” she says, hopping up on the console. “Look my Robin brethren, love works in mysterious, frequently homicidal ways. Deal with it.”

“I’m just so confused,” Dick says, burying his face in his hands.

“ _I’m_ disgusted,” Damian sneers.

Steph cocks her head to the right, staring up at the surveillance feed on the screen. “I’m kinda turned on.”

Dick groans.


	6. Chapter 6

“Ha! I knew it. You totally want in my pants.”

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose in an entirely too Bruce-like way that makes him instantly pull his hand back. “I asked you if you wanted to grab a bite to eat, you tool.”

“Hey, I’ve got the tool if you’ve got the…” Conner trails off and Tim bites back a laugh.

“Didn’t plan that one out very far, did you.”

Conner shrugs. “Whatever , you totally _want_ my tool.”

“Ugh,” Tim groans. This. This is the boy he’s stupidly in love with. There must be something wrong with him. “If I did, I certainly don’t now.”

“Ha!” Conner jumps, poking him in the chest. “I _knew_ it.”

Tim sighs, but it’s taking all the willpower he can muster not to grin like an idiot as Conner hops beams down at him. “Do you want to or not?”

“Sure, I can always eat,” Conner says, stepping into Tim’s space. “But, you know, we could just skip that part and go right to the making out. _If_ that’s what you want.”

Tim wants to smack him. But that would hurt and not do a bit of good, so instead he kisses him. Conner’s mouth is soft and warm against his and Tim kind of never wants his lips to touch anything else ever again. He’d be completely content if they somehow found themselves stuck this way for the rest of eternity.

“I knew it,” Conner grins smugly against his mouth. Tim punches him in the arm anyway. The bruise will totally be worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

Dick’s going to hell. Going to hell going to hell going to _hell._ A special hell where Batmans who fool around with their Robins go, a hell where Bruce will torment him for all of _eternity_. They’re going to have to create a completely new level of hell just for _him._

“Oh god,” his hips stutter, arching against Damian’s mouth, reaching out to card his fingers through Damian’s hair experimentally. When he feels Damian’s mouth vibrate lightly around him in a little moan, Dick nearly loses it. “H-how old are you again?”

Damian pulls off with an obscenely wet sound that makes Dick’s cheeks flush, Damian’s shiny, swollen lips not helping matters. “Please tell me you’re not bringing that up again. _Now._

“No,” Dick laughs a little too hysterically, because really, that ship has _sailed_ , and at least Damian’s legal now. He reaches out to touch Damian’s mouth, see if its as soft and pillowy as it looks. It is. _Hellhellhell._ “I just. You’re really, _really_ good at this. You sure you haven’t done this before?”

Damian rolls his eyes. “I’m good at everything, Grayson,” he says and wraps his perfect, terrible mouth around him again.

“Everything… _hnngh_ ,” Dick groans as Damian’s mouth envelopes him completely. “M-might have to test that theory.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dick pulls against the handcuffs until the metal bites into his skin, leaving bloody, red rings around his wrists. “Let me _out._ ”

“You know I can’t do that,” Damian says. “If I let you do all the things you said you wanted to do to me in this condition you would hate yourself in the morning’”

Dick arches into Damian’s hand when it touches his shoulder, whimpers when the contact is lost.

“You’re very...imaginative. I didn’t expect that.” He knows he shouldn’t -- that touch really only makes it worse, but Damian can hardly help himself, with Grayson writhing and panting, chained to his bed. He strokes Dick’s face, the curve of his cheekbones, gasping when Grayson turns his head and sucks his fingers into his mouth, moaning around them. 

“ _Please_ ,” Dick pleads when Damian pulls his hand back, staring up at him with frighteningly large pupils. “I won’t hate myself, I swear. I want this, want _you--_ ”

Damian’s breath hitches a little, but he collects himself, grabs a bottle of water and allows Grayson to drink from it. “No,” he says softly as Grayson chugs the water down at an alarming rate. “When you touch me, I want to know it is all you, not the work of some lunatic plant woman.”


	9. Chapter 9

Jason likes to talk. Tim knows this. He’s always known this, even before Jason knew _him._ And generally, he doesn’t mind, enjoys it even, the snarky banter, verbally pulling his pigtails, his colorful vocabulary, but sometimes. Sometimes he wishes Jason would shut _up/_ , because normally, when he’s _not_ completely naked with Jason’s hand wrapped tight around his dick, he’s got a pretty good poker face. As it is…

“I bet you had a little crush on Grayson, didn’t you?” he says and Tim can’t even remember how they got on this very, very bad idea of a topic. Something about Tim deciding not to wear the green panties and Jason saying he _liked_ the green panties fuck you very much, and then suddenly they were talking about Dick and how _he_ looked in the costume and how flexible he must be, and well, here they are. “Hell, I bet you got off on all of us at one point or another behind your little camera,” Jason laughs, but then Tim’s blushing furiously and squirming beneath him and--

“Oh my god,” Jason says, hand slowing to an almost stop. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“ _Jason-_ ’”

“I mean, I knew you had that freaky voyeurism kink and everything, but damn.” He’s grinning so wide and smug and Tim really wants to put his fist right through his teeth for it. But then Jason’s leaning down and rolling his hips against Tim’s, dragging a pathetic, whimpering moan out of him and chuckling next to his ear, Jason’s breath tickling his skin. “Jesus, you would love it, wouldn’t you? For me and Dick and,” he nips at Tim’s earlobe. “Bruce--”

“Oh _god_.”

“--to spread you out and mark you up and take turns fucking you out.” Jason drawls and Tim shudders beneath him, bucks against Jason’s hips, biting his own tongue to keep back all the embarrassing noises that want to come out. 

“Jason, _please_ \--”

“Please, what? Tell you how fucking hot it is that you’re hard for your daddy, your big brother, and the asshole who’s tried to kill you on multiple occasions? Good god you’re a hot little mess, aren’t you?”

Tim makes a whining sound in the back of his throat and tries to push Jason off of him, but Jason is solid and unmoving and doesn’t go anywhere. Because he _is_ an asshole. 

“Uh uh, you’re not going anywhere,” Jason grins. “I’m just getting started.”


	10. Chapter 10

It’s like seeing a ghost -- no, not like, he _is_ seeing a ghost. Jason _died._ Dick went to his funeral, watched them lower the casket into the damn ground, _mourned_ him, they all did. But here he is, in the flesh, but nothing like the boy with the sparkling blue eyes bouncing all around the cave that Dick remembers. He’s angry, lashing out at everything and everyone around him like the rage is eating him up inside and this is the only way he knows to get it out. 

Jason swings his leg around and Dick jumps. He throws a punch and Dick blocks it. Jason was Robin the last time they did this, sparring in the cave while Bruce was away on some business trip, laughing and gobbling down Alfred’s sandwiches and rolling around on the mats. Dick lets the memories distract him for too long and ends up on his back for it, Jason’s kris pressed up against his adam’s apple. 

“Miss me, big brother?”

Dick swallows, feels the blade knick his skin. Jason’s hovering over him, his face inches away from Dick’s and yet he still can’t believe it. He’s here. He’s _alive._ “Yes,” Dick answers him honestly, hoping that maybe it’ll at least make a dent in Jason’s carefully constructed armor, reach him where other methods have failed. “I did miss you, little wing.” 

Jason scowls and backs away from Dick so fast you’d think he’d burned him. “Not fucking enough apparently,” he mutters,and stomps Dick in the ribs a few times before getting on his bike and taking off.


	11. Chapter 11

Jason lands on the roof about a half a second after Tim does.

“Where is it?” He growls, fingers curled around the gun at his hip, scoping out the scene. Which is a lot less violent than he had expected it to be.

“It?” Tim snaps impatiently. 

Jason slides the gun out of its holster, waves it around while he talks. “Beastie. Alien thing. Tentacles? Poison goo?”

Tim stares at Jason like he’s just sprouted his _own_ tentacles. “ _What_ are you even talking about? _I_ got called here about Man-Bat.”

Jason narrows his eyes, his bullshit detector pinging loud and clear. “Yeah? So where is he?” 

Tim looks around and glowers. “Honestly, I was just wondering that myself.”

Jason snaps his gun back in the holster, crosses his arms. “Who contacted you?”

“Hellspawn. You?”

Jason rolls his eyes, mumbles _little shit_ , then presses a finger up to the comm link in his ear. “What’s your game, brat?”

The comm devices in both Tim and Jason’s ears crackle to life. “Make up,” Damian says to them. “Or suffer my wrath. I tire of watching Drake sulk and I can no longer make excuses for your body count, Todd. _Make. Up._ ”

The comms go silent and Jason and Tim desperately try to look anywhere but at each other. 

“I can’t believe he set us up.”

“You were sulking?” Jason asks, grinning like the total, irredeemable asshole he is. Tim hates him. _Hates_. Except no, that would be _easier._

“You left for _three months._ You didn’t even say _good-bye._

Jason, at least, has the decency to look apologetic. “Yeah, it wasn’t really planned. We were just doing this one small gig and kind of got abducted by some psycho alien bounty hunters or something. It’s not like I just took off for some unknown galaxy for the shit of it, Tim.”

Tim frowns, unsatisfied. “You couldn’t have tried to contact me? _Anyone?_ ”

“I was kind of busy being tortured in an alien prison! I asked for my one phone call, but apparently they don’t honor the Geneva Convention in where-the-fuck-ever!”

Tim launches himself at Jason, and on instinct, or reflex maybe, punches him in the face. He doesn’t put much behind it, doesn’t hurt him much, it’s just the only way he knows to get through to Jason, to make him realize how fucking worried he’s been.

“Tim--”

Then he’s shoving him against the brick and throwing his body at him, digging his fingers into Jason’s scalp and kissing him hard and bruising. Jason’s hand slides around his waist, down to the small of his back, and pulls Tim flush against him, let’s Tim punish him with rough, angry kisses until he feels better. 

“Are you okay, at least?” Tim breathes out against his mouth, carding his fingers gently through Jason’s hair. Later he’ll lie him down on their bed, strip him down and spread him out, catalogue his body for new scars, make Jason tell him everything, but right now he just needs to _know._

Jason nods. “You know me.”

Tim reaches out and drags his thumb across Jason’s mouth where he hit him, brings it to his mouth, licking Jason’s blood off his skin, then touches his finger to the device in his ear. 

“Thanks, Damian.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Why do you make me do this?” Dick grits out, sweat plastering hair to his forehead, pinning Jason down with one of his stupid sticks so tight against his throat Jason’s vision keeps blurring at the edges. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jason laughs, a little weak due to the escrima pressed against his trachea and Dick’s knees digging into his chest, but the twist of his mouth gets his point made clear enough. “It’s not nice to lie, Dickie.”

He jabs Dick in the kidney and surges forward, barrelling right into Dick’s midsection, tackling him onto his back, throwing punch after punch until Dick twists his body in a way only he can and throws Jason’s balance off, stomping him in the gut, then in the teeth.

Jason rolls onto his side, clutching his ribs, and laughs and laughs, pausing only to spit up blood, then laughs some more. Dick crouches down next to him and frowns, reaches down and wipes blood off of Jason’s cheek, thumb grazing his busted lip. Jason hisses at the sting of salt in the wound.

“What am I going to do with you?” Dick murmurs, pushing Jason’s hair, matted with sweat and blood, out of his eyes. “Why do you keep making me do this?”

Jason leans into his touch, closes his eyes. “What else would we do?”


	13. Chapter 13

" _Stop saying that_." Jason snaps, wrenching his gaze away from Tim's eyes that are too understanding, too sympathetic, too everything that he doesn't deserve. "And stop looking at me like that." 

"Like what?"

Jason grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw tensing and flexing. "Like I didn't leave you for _dead_. Like I'm fucking… _redeemable_." Jason recoils as he bites the word out, as if were made of acid, burning a hole in his throat. 

“You are,” Tim says calmly.

Jason looks like he might be sick, but instead fumbles around his jacket pockets until he produces a crumpled pack of smokes and lighter. His shoulders loosen noticeably on the first drag, and by the third he’s calmed down exponentially, that wild look in his eyes replaced by weariness and resignation.

“You are way too chill for a person who’s been on the pointy end of my blade more times than I care to count.”

The fact that Tim doesn’t even flinch when Jason mentions this shit just makes him _want_ to make him flinch, remind him of who and what he is. He can’t _stand_ that the kid feels fucking comfortable around him now, basically standing there across from him with his guard down around his ankles. He needs him to be scared. Jason needs him to remember all the fucked up things he did and said and _wanted_ to do, because fuck. They might all think he’s reformed because he swapped to non-lethal bullets, because he helps the little bat cult out when they get jammed up every now and then, but it’s all still there, just itching beneath the surface, every night trying to crawl its way out of him. Tim doesn’t fucking _know._ And fuck if he’s going to hurt him again.

“But I understand--”

“You really _don’t_ ,” Jason says, tight and clipped off, then climbs out of Tim’s window the same way he came in. 

_And thank fuck for that._


	14. Chapter 14

Dick knows he _wants_ it, that’s not the issue. Damian’s always -- _always_ \-- liked it rough, even before they were -- before he grew up, grew _out_ , got broad like Bruce and as just as tall. Even as a kid he reveled in the bloody mouths, the bruises, always refusing anesthetic when getting stitched up. It never surprised Dick when it seemed to transfer over to _other_ activities. He likes his hair pulled tight when Dick kisses him, likes Dick’s nails digging, biting into his skin, asks him to bite him, harder, always harder, like Dick’s holding back on him. And maybe he does, sometimes. It’s just, it's kind of scary going to that dark place inside of him he usually only reserves for criminals, and then only the worst of the worst, hating to lose control like that. But Damian pushes him, pleads with him, until Dick reaches inside and loses himself to that side of him, grabbing and shoving and bruising and choking, until he’s looking down at the marks and mess he made of Damian when they’re done, hands shaking.

But Damian never looks at him like he’s scared of him, like he hates him -- he _should_. No, he looks up at Dick with those bright, green eyes that scare the _life_ out of Dick, looks up at him and _smiles_ , pulls him down and kisses him slow, soft, and it’s almost something like gratitude. 

“I didn’t hurt you?” Dick leans back on his knees, trailing his fingers down the angry reddish purple teeth marks on Damian’s neck, his collarbone, the blood red streaks on his back, the finger shaped bruises around his throat. It’s a stupid question. 

“If I wanted safe,” Damian says, curling against Dick like a kitten. The contrast of the situation nearly drives Dick out of his mind, but he just wraps his arm around Damian’s shoulders, pets his hair. “I wouldn’t have chosen you, Grayson.” 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: DCU, Jason Todd +/ any, Jason hates Lilo & Stitch

_”You can't take her! I'm the only one who understands her! If you take her away, she won't stand a chance!”_

Jason drops his duffel on the floor with a thump. “Turn it off.”

Tim looks up from his nest of laptops and file folders, photos and documents scattered all over, stares up at Jason like he just realized he’d walked through the door. “You’re back.”

“I’m back. Turn it the fuck off.”

Tim squints up at him quizzically. “Huh?”

“The tv,” Jason growls, flicking his wrist at it. “ _Now_.”

Tim turns back around on the couch and looks at the tv. It’d been hours since he paid attention to what was even playing, just letting it stay on to provide white noise while he went through case files and dug around for answers. “Oh,” he says.

 _”Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind, or for--”_.  
”

“TIM.”

Tim scrambles to find the remote and smash the power button before Stitch can finish. “Sorry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I didn’t. I wasn’t paying attention.”

Jason just glares and stalks off toward the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge. “You haven’t moved in hours, have you?” He calls out with his head stuck in the fridge. Tim’s non-response is exactly what he’d expected. “Hopeless,” he snorts, grabbing the turkey. “Get in here, I”ll make you a fucking sandwich.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Somehow they end up playing 'I Never'  
> Jason: I never had sexual fantasies about Robin.  
> Everyone else: drinks.

“It’s easy,” Dick says. “I’ll go first. I, hm,” he puts his fingers to his lips contemplatively and they all cringe when his eyes light up. “I never went on a date with Batgirl.” 

“So, you drink obviously,” Jason rolls his eyes. “And Drake?”

“I dunno,” Steph says. “We didn’t really...not when I was Batgirl, y’know?”

“Kay, so just me then,” Dick says, raising the glass to his lips, but everyone stops and stares at Steph when she pours herself a shot. 

“What?” She asks, innocently. “Cass is hot.”

All of them nod approvingly and watch Dick and Steph drink. 

“Your turn, Babs,” Dick says, passing her the bottle. 

Babs closes her eyes for a moment to think, then, “I’ve never driven the Batmobile.”

Dick and Tim both drink.

“You drove the Batmobile?” Steph shrieks. “That is absolutely not fair. When? You never told me!”

Jason rolls his eyes again. “This game is so lame I might pass out from boredom. I thought we were going to get drunk.”

Steph smirks, taking the bottle from Babs. “Okay then,” she says. “I’ve never been - literally or otherwise - dead.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Jason says, watching Steph knock back her own shot then letting her fill his to the brim until some of it leaks over onto his fingers, tipping it back and licking the whiskey from his skin, grinning as he passes the bottle over to Babs and Dick. Poor Tim looks a little left out. “My turn.”

The rest of the group looks mildly horrified as Jason ponders his question. 

“I never,” he draws it out. “Had sexual fantasies about Robin.”

They all start to pour their shots when Jason says, “Heh, no. Wait, that’s too fuckin’ easy,” he says, eyes glittering when he looks across their little pow wow circle at Tim. “I never perved on Robin from behind my little camera.”

Steph giggles a little behind her hand and Dick mostly looks annoyed, which really, is such a _new_ look for him, but Tim quickly down the shot and snatches the bottle out of Jason’s hands, a slow, smug smirk spreading out across his face. “ _I_ never killed anyone.”

Jason raises his shot glass in a faux toast and pours it down his mouth, keeping careful eye contact with Tim as he licks his lips and steals the bottle back, despite it not really being his turn.

“I never crawled out of my own grave and couldn’t get the taste of worms and dirt out of my mouth for years.”

Tim just stares back at him, refusing to back down, but as soon as Jason pours the shot and tosses it back, his steely expression breaks into something else.

“Guys,” Dick whines. “This was supposed to be fun.”

“Oh,” Jason says, tracing the rim of his shot glass with an index finger, still holding eye contact with Tim. “It just _got_ fun.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: DCU, Batfamily (any), (503): Hey man your outta milk  
> (541): How the hell do you keep getting in my apartment?!

“Morning,” Jason says, perched on the edge of Tim’s kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal in his hands, empty jug of milk next to him. “You’re out of milk.”

Tim scrubs a hand across his face to make sure he’s actually seeing this. “How the hell do you keep getting into my apartment? It’s rigged up to practically _tazer_ anyone who tries to get in who isn’t me.”

Jason’s grin is too broad and maniacal for this early in the morning, which means he probably hasn’t slept yet, still working off residual adrenaline wherever he can. “I’ve got skills you wouldn’t believe, pretty boy.” 

“That so,” Tim mumbles, collecting the empty jug and tossing it in the trash. Jason catches him with his legs, hooking his ankles around Tim’s back and pulling him between his thighs. Tim stumbles and falls right against Jason’s chest, heat splotching his face and neck. 

“Yup,” he grins, setting the bowl of pinkish milk down next to him. There’s still a bunch of plain bits of cereal floating on top that Jason carefully avoided to get to the marshmallows. “Care for a demonstration?” 

Tim’s hand is still pressed over Jason’s heart and he can feel it rapidly beating beneath his fingers, almost dangerously high, and his pupils are still blown. He smells like smoke and gunpowder and there’s dried blood right beneath his hairline. Tim wonders if he came here straight from a fight or if it was something even more than that, something he promised Tim, promised all of them, he wouldn’t do anymore. He wants to ask, and he will, but right now Jason’s tugging on the drawstring of his pants and slipping off the counter, kneeling in front of him, yanking Tim’s pants down and wrapping his mouth around his dick, and right this second? That’s all Tim really needs to know. He’ll get the truth -- and a new gallon of milk -- out of Jason later.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Tim Drake, (248): I feel like I use my high IQ for the wrong things

“Don’t look at me like that,” Steph says, poking Tim’s forehead as he logs into the school’s website, frown pulling at his face. “The only reason I failed the class is because I didn’t hand in the paper on time. The only reason I didn’t hand the paper in on time is because I was a little busy being _framed for murder_.”

Tim sighs. “Fine,” he mutters, subtly changing just a few of Steph’s grades, leaving in some of the bad ones but notching up the ones that were already good so that it doesn’t look too suspicious and keeps her grade point average where she needs it to keep her scholarship. “But only this time, okay?”

“Best genius ex-boyfriend ever,” Steph grins, leaning down and kissing him on the cheek before flying out the window. 

 

***

 

“Seriously? You can’t pay for your own porn, Dick?”

Dick at least has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, cupping the back of his neck. “Well, no. I mean, yes. But I’d rather keep it off the paperwork, if you know what I mean? Besides, you’re a whiz with this stuff, Timmy. It’ll take you what, an hour to get it --”

“I’m done,” Tim says, crawling out from behind the cable box.

Dick grins, ruffles his hair. “That’s our little genius.”

 

***

 

“Drake, hey, just the replacement I was looking for,” Jason says, leaning over the back of Tim’s chair as he works. “I’ve got this, uh, project. It could use some of your fancy programming skills. You up for it?”

Tim pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows he looks like Alfred when they all won’t stop squabbling long enough to eat, but he can’t help it. “Does this happen to involve blowing something or someone up?”

“You know,” Jason scowls. “I do more than just blow shit up.”

Tim levels a glare at him.

“Yes, fine. Can you set off six different bombs, each on different floors all within thirty seconds of each other?” 

“When I was nine,” Tim deadpans and Jason claps him on the shoulder. “Knew there was a reason we keep you around.”

 

***

Damian starts up his phone and the music plays. Opens his laptop, same music. Starts up the Ducati, the music starts blaring out of the speakers. 

_LIKE A BAT OUT OF HELL_

Tim smirks around the rim of his coffee cup as he hears his name echo up to the mansion, all the way down from the cave where Damian’s trying to figure out how to get the music to stop blaring so he can leave for patrol.

_“I will end you, Drake! Do you hear me? THERE WILL BE BLOOD. ”_

Tim thinks he should probably be putting his genius level IQ to better use than helping Steph cheat, getting Dick free porn, enabling Jason’s blowing shit up fetish, and making Damian’s life miserable, but honestly, he can’t imagine anything else would be this satisfying.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason/Tim - green eyed monster

“Thought you were going to come by last night after patrol?”

An expression Tim’s maybe never seen before flashes across Jason’s face, but it’s gone before he can study it too far. “I did,” he says, turning his back on Tim to fish a takeout box out of the fridge. “You had company.”

He’d climbed in the window, heart racing, adrenaline pumping, covered in cuts and bruises, a hole in his jacket from a stray bullet, couldn’t wait to get his hands on Tim, shove him down, pour all that raw energy right into him, rough him up until he was begging for it. 

But then he’d heard it, voices coming from the living room. Tim’s Titan friends had apparently stopped by, including the fucking clone kid. Jason’s never liked him. 

He’d slipped out the window just as quiet as he had come in. 

“Yeah, Conner and Cassie stopped by on their way to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, wanted to see if I wanted to go with. Why didn’t you hang around? They weren’t here for long.”

Jason shrugs, sniffs the fried rice, then makes a face and tosses it in the trash. Tim rolls his eyes. 

“Why do you hate Conner so much? He’s my best friend. It kind of sucks that I can’t be around both of you at the same time.”

“Does it?” Jason acts with a little pointed inflection, his eyebrow arching up a little by habit more than purpose.

Tim’s forehead wrinkles. “Yes?”

Jason shrugs. “Seems like you didn’t mind his company, s’all I’m saying.” 

Tim groans and flops down on the couch next to him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I _told_ you, that happened _one_ time.”

Jason’s mouth thins out into a flat line. “You don’t have to make excuses for me.”

“I’m not making _excuses_ , god. He has a girlfriend, you know.”

Jason laughs, short and clipped. “Like that’s ever stopped anyone.”

Tim’s expression quickly changes from minor annoyance to really kind of pissed off in an instant. “What the fuck is your problem?” He snaps, standing up.

Jason reaches out and wraps his fingers around Tim’s wrist, tight, and yanks him down into his lap. “My problem,” he growls, “Is that every time I see you with him you’re staring at him like he’s the second fucking coming. Like all he has to do is say the words and you’d be on your knees.”

His mouth crashes against Tim’s, putting all that anger and rage and repressed emotions he’ll never admit to behind it, and it would be painful if it weren’t so fucking _hot._

“I know you don’t have a whole lot of experience with this,” Tim says, squirming in Jason’s lap, struggling to get his wrists free, if only so he can bury his hands in Jason’s hair. “But we’re just _friends_ , Jason. We care about each other, the same way you care about Roy and Kori.”

“I used to fuck Roy and Kori,” Jason points out. 

Tim huffs. “And once I sucked Conner’s dick,” he snaps. “But not anymore. You?”

Slowly, Jason shakes his head. 

“Good,” Tim says, grinding his hips against Jason. “Now let me go so I can show you what you missed last night, even though you don’t deserve it.”

Jason lets go of Tim’s wrists and lets his head fall back against the couch as Tim bites and kisses his way down Jason’s throat, pushes his shirt up to trace the definition of Jason’s abs with his tongue.

“He’s seriously into Cassie?”

Tim sighs and his head falls forehead, resting against Jason’s stomach. He’s never going to let this go.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay/Tim - knifeplay, kinda dubcon

Jason holds him in place with his thighs, hugging Tim’s rib cage like a vice grip. 

“You’re a psycho,” Tim struggles beneath him. “Get _off_ me.”

“No thanks,” Jason grins, dragging his knife across Tim’s chest till crimson blooms out and stains the metal. Tim hisses through his teeth, his back arching up off the floor of the abandoned warehouse Jason attacked him in. “Besides, my pretty little replacement, we both know you’re enjoying this.”

Tim clenches his jaw and glares. “I’m not _you_ , you sick fuck. I don’t get off on pain and hurting people.”

Jason laughs, loud and slightly crazed. “Oh god, you _are_ good at repressing, aren’t you?”

Tim grits his teeth. “You’re insane.”

“ _You’re_ hard,” Jason points out and grinds his hips down against Tim’s for good measure, dragging an inadvertent gasp from his lips. “For the terrible, no good, homicidal maniac making you bleed for him.”

A groan escapes Tim’s mouth as Jason makes another shallow cut across his pec, a mixture of pain and something else entirely, Jason holding Tim’s gaze as he raises the blade to his mouth and drags his tongue along the metal, licking it clean. “Oh _god_.”

Jason chuckles darkly. “Admit it, Red. Ever since that first night I held my knife against your pretty throat you’ve been thinking about this.”

Tim’s eyes blaze - with rage, with hate, with _want_. 

“Took me a while,” Jason says, just barely dragging the tip of the blade over Tim’s abs. “You’re a tough cookie to crack, you know? But I figured you out.” He presses a little firmer and grins when Tim bites down on his lip to keep from moaning. 

“You and me,” Jason leans down, planting the hand with the knife in it next to Tim’s head, hovering just over Tm’s mouth. “We’re more alike than you think.”

Tim catches him off guard and manages to snatch the knife from Jason’s hand and roll them over, pressing the blade tight against Jason’s trachea. “I am nothing like you.”

Jason’s laughter echoes in the empty warehouse like a ghost. “Are you kidding?” He says, taking in Tim’s torn costume, all the scars he’s collected over the years like merit badges, the mask, the cape. “You _are_ me.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay/Tim - first snow of the year

“First snow of the year,” Tim says conversationally, holding a gloved hand out to catch the first flakes of the season. Over the years he’s learned to mask the enthusiasm, stamp down the kid inside of him jumping up and down, dreaming of snow angels and snowmen and snowball fights, hot cocoa with the little marshmallows and peppermint sticks ready for him when his hands get too wet and numb. Especially around Jason -- he gets mocked enough already.

Jason turns his head, glares up at the heavens as if he can threaten them into submission. “I fucking hate snow.”

“I don’t know. I always liked it,” Tim continues, tilting his face up to feel the snowflakes fall against his cheeks. 

“You would have,” Jason snorts, and even in that simple noise there’s anger and bitterness. “You weren’t a wet, shivering mess burning your last paperback to keep from getting frostbite.”

For a minute, Tim feels like an ass, almost opens his mouth to say _sorry_ , try to say something to make up for the fact that he’d been dealt a luckier hand than Jason, but he knows from years of experience the only thing Jason likes less than hearing about his privileged childhood is being pitied, so he shuts that thought down immediately, tries a different tactic. ”You don’t have to hate it anymore, though. You’ve got a roof over your head -- multiple, if my latest surveillance is still accurate.”

Jason narrows his eyes.

“You’ve got layers of clothing on your back and your books aren’t in any danger of becoming kindling any time soon.”

Jason clicks his tongue impatiently. “What’s your point?”

“My point,” Tim says, taking a step closer to Jason, nearly backing him into a wall, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is you have snow in your hair and I want to kiss you.”

Jason lets out an exaggerated sigh, then wraps his arm around Tim’s waist and yanks him forward, flush against hm. “You know most guys get hot for lesbian porn or like, getting tied up. Not precipitation.”

Tim grins and flicks snow from Jason’s hair. “I’m not most guys.”

“No,” Jason murmurs, tracing Tim’s bottom lip with a gloved finger, leaning in to kiss a snowflake from the corner of his mouth. “You really aren’t.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: DCU, Jason Todd/Stephanie Brown, (917): when I was too drunk to walk on my own two feet, he stole a shopping cart from the grocery store at the corner and proceeded to wheel me back to my apartment.  
> (917): Then he tucked me in, gave me a goodnight kiss and slept on my sofa. I woke up this morning and he was making waffles.  
> (347): he is a god among men.

Steph walks into the kitchen, hair thrown on top of her head in the world’s messiest bun -- and no, not in the cute youtube tutorial way - and stares.

“You’re in my kitchen.”

Jason cracks an egg into the batter. “It lives.” He smirks. “Sort of.”

“You’re in my kitchen making waffles.”

“Nothing gets past you. At least we know you didn’t kill _all_ your brain cells last night.”

Oh god, last night. Last night was _bad_ Worst night ever. She can’t even remember why, just that it was _bad._ She looks at the couch, at the rumpled pile of blankets and Jason’s jacket balled up like a pillow. 

“You slept on the couch?”

“Yeah,” Jason says, pouring batter into the waffle iron. “A nunchuk tried to violate me in the middle of the night.”

“Huh,” Steph says. “That’s where that went.”

“Yeah,” Jason says grimly. “It almost went somewhere else.”

Steph would probably laugh if she didn’t believe with all her being that it would make her head crack wide open. “How did I get home?”

“I found you stumbling out of some dive too wasted to even walk, but you tried to stab me with one of your stilettos when I tried to carry you, so I snagged a shopping cart from some bum and wheeled you home. You thought it was awesome.”

“I remember the wind in my hair,” Steph says vaguely. “So, hold on. You brought me home, slept on my nightmare of a couch, and now you’re making me waffles?”

“You forgot the part where I tucked you in and kissed you goodnight and left a bucket by the bed for you to puke in.” He grins smugly, like he thinks he deserve some kind of award or at least a cookie. He probably does.

Steph thinks she strains herself _staring_ at him. “Why?”

Jason shrugs. “You seemed pretty fucked up and you were alone and I’ve...been there.”

“I was so drunk I can’t even remember any of it,” she says softly. “No one else would have done all this. Hell,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it that sets Jason’s mouth into a thin line. “Any other guy would have --”

Rage flashes behind Jason’s eyes. “No,” he says, just like that and hands Steph a plate of waffles. 

“Thank you, Jason,” she says while they eat at the bar. He pours some juice in a cup for her. She doesn’t remember having juice. “You’re. You’re a good guy.”

She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the look on his face.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lazarus pit made Jason immortal. Tim's not dealing with it very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Tim/Jason I could sigh into your hide and say, "I hope I'm here forever."

Tim stares at the date on the calendar. 

“Morning, birthday boy,” Jason calls from the stove, flipping pancakes. “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed but of course your stubborn ass can’t sleep in.”

“I told you you didn’t have to do anything,” Tim snaps sharply and yanks the calendar of the wall, tossing it in the trash on his way out of the room. 

“Tim,” Jason sighs, turning the stove off. “Wait.”

“I’m going for a run,” Tim says and pulls on his shoes. “Enjoy your goddamn pancakes.” 

The door slams behind him. 

 

***

Jason’s sharpening knives when he comes back from his run. Tim feels better, his blood pumping, muscles aching like they should, sweat running down his back. He feels alive. 

He starts stripping right in front of Jason, right in the middle of the living room with the blinds open for anyone who walks or drives by to see. 

“Fuck me,” he says, licking his lips, and Jason sets the whetstone down on the coffee table along with the bowie knife in his hand. 

He fucks Tim up against the wall with Tim’s legs wrapped his waist, then when his arms get too tired holding him up he bends him over the kitchen table, fucks him so hard the plate of cold pancakes falls and smashes to pieces on the tile. Then he takes him to their bed and fucks him slow, kisses him when he comes and tastes the salty tears on Tim’s face.

“Hey,” he says softly, wiping the tears away with his thumb. “Hey, come on. Don’t.”

“Don’t _what_?” Tim snaps and turns away from him, swinging his legs off the bed to get dressed. “Don’t be upset that you never age? Don’t make you stay with me while I get old and senile? Don’t fucking _die_?”

Jason just looks at him like he doesn’t even _know_ him, says, “I’m going out,” and snatches the keys off the dresser. “Happy fucking birthday.”

 

***

He comes home some time after one, stumbling through the house drunk, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes and women who’d tried to throw themselves at him. At least Roy had been kind enough to take them off his hand. He stops when he reaches the living room and sees Tim, waiting for him on the couch in the dark. 

“It’s not my _fault_ ,” Jason says, because he’s still angry, so angry at so many things. “I didn’t ask for --”

“I know,” Tim says softly and gets up, walks over to Jason and wraps his arms around him. He sighs against his shoulder. “I just wish --”

“I know,” Jason says wearily, reaching out to stroke Tim’s hair. “I know.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce doesn’t think he can be The Batman anymore and he’s here, telling Jason first, because he needs to know if he’s right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: Bruce/Jason - _The most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it's you, and that you're standing in the doorway._

Jason forgets his usual reflex of cynicism and bitterness, forgets to be pissed off at being tracked down yet again, because its Bruce. Bruce, not Batman, standing in the doorway and waiting for him to let him in. Bruce, in his expensive suit and Italian shoes like he’s just come from the office, his collar open and his tied pulled loose around his neck. There’s a fading smudge of lipstick on the lower half of his jaw where a secretary probably got to him, which Jason would tease him about if he were in the mood, if it were a decade ago. 

Bruce looks tired, more tired than Jason’s seen him look in years. There’s dark circles around his eyes and heavy bags under them and when he’s tired like this his age shows more, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and on his forehead, but he’s still goddamn gorgeous.

He lets him in because if Bruce is here, not Batman with the cowl and the cape and the orders and the disappointment, if it’s just Bruce then maybe --

“What’s wrong?” Jason narrows his eyes.

Bruce gives him a weary look. “Why does something have to be wrong?”

“Because you’re here,” Jason says flatly. “Because you could’ve called. So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bruce says and he’s still standing in the doorway like he expects Jason to invite him in, like he thinks he needs permission. “I was in the neighborhood.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and Jason has a sudden, vivid flashback of being fifteen, joking with Bruce in the corner of some fancy party and making him laugh. 

“Try again,” Jason says and turns around to go into the small kitchen for a glass of water, leaving the door open wide. It’s the only invitation Bruce is going to get. 

“I wanted to see you,” Bruce says and Jason hears the door snick shut behind him. 

Jason turns around, leaning against the counters, and crosses his arms over his chest. There’s worry in his eyes. “Now I know something’s wrong.”

Bruce sighs and walks into the kitchen, crowding right up in Jason’s space. He reaches out a tentative hand and brushes his thumb over the bruise right above Jason’s left eye, leans in and closes his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I don’t think I can do it anymore,” he says and his voice is like a whisper, like a ghost. Jason almost misses it. He lifts his hand to Bruce’s face and Bruce’s eyes open for him. 

“I haven’t told anyone else,” Bruce says and Jason swallows a sudden lump in his throat. 

“Why are you telling me?”

Bruce smiles down at him sadly. “Because I know you’ll tell me the truth.”

Jason doesn’t have to ask him what truth he needs to know, doesn’t even have to hear the question. Bruce doesn’t think he can be The Batman anymore and he’s here, telling Jason first, because he needs to know if he’s right. If he’s making the right decision. 

Jason wants to tell him yes, set fucking fire to the cowl and the cape and dance on the ashes, kidnap Bruce and take him to some exotic island in the middle of an ocean where they can drink mai tai’s and get tans and live out the rest of their lives with what’s left of their tired, broken bodies, put all this horror and mayhem in the rear view and never look back. 

But he knows better and he knows Bruce, just like he knows why Bruce is _here_ and not talking to Dick or Tim about this. 

“You want to die old and grey with tubes in you, pissing in a bed pan?” He says instead, says exactly what Bruce came to him to hear, adding just enough vitriol to his words to get that spark back into Bruce’s eyes. “Or you want to die in a fucking blaze protecting the city you’ve poured your heart and soul into and make it fucking mean something?”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, then he squeezes Jason’s shoulder, breathes out a shaky breath, and says, “Thank you.”

Jason doesn’t say anything in return, just watches Bruce turn and walk away from him. 

“Hey Bruce,” he says, just as Bruce is about to shut the door behind him. “I’ll be right there with you.”

Bruce smiles. “I thought you might say that .”


	25. Chapter 25

"Remind me,” Roy grunts, fingers digging into the muscles of Dick’s thighs as he thrusts into him. One of Dick’s legs is hooked over his shoulder, he’s folded up like a fucking pretzel with his back against the wall and he looks like he couldn’t be more comfortable. “To send the circus a fucking fruit basket.”

Dick laughs, digs his fingers into the back of Roy’s neck and kisses him, the angle when he leans forward driving Roy deeper inside of him, making him cry out against his mouth. 

“Fucked a yoga instructor once,” Roy slams him back against the wall, bites Dick’s throat until it starts to turn colors. “Tiny thing. Not even close to being as bendy as you, fuck.”

“Training helped too,” Dick says, disentangling his leg from Roy’s shoulder to wrap both legs around Roy’s waist, loops his arms around his neck and use his core muscles to hold himself up and bounce on Roy’s dick. “So,” he pants. “Make sure you send one to Bruce too.”

Roy laughs when he comes and nearly drops Dick on the floor. “You’re a shit,” he says, pulling out of Dick and pushing him against the wall, dropping to his knees to swallow him down. He gets his hands up under Dick’s ass and one of Dick’s long, slender legs comes up and around and Roy’s feels his heel digging into the back of his neck, pushing him forward. 

“Jesus,” Roy says after Dick comes, wiping his mouth. “You got any other tricks in you, circus boy?”

Dick looks down at him, grins. “You couldn’t handle all my moves, Harper.”

Roy thinks he might be right.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry visits Hartley.

Barry doesn’t know why he keeps coming here, slipping into Hartley’s cell after everyone else has gone home, after he’s looped the surveillance feed so he doesn’t get caught. He doesn’t like Hartley, can’t stand the sharp angles of his face or the pretentious way he talks, and maybe that’s why he always makes him face the wall or get on his knees, maybe that’s why he closes his eyes when he digs his fingers into Hartley’s slender hips and imagines someone else. 

He tells himself he only keeps coming back for information, because Hartley knows more about the elusive Dr. Wells than any of them put together, and every time he comes to Hartley’s cell Hartley lets slip another sliver of the puzzle -- not an entire piece, that would be too easy, too much at once. He only lets loose small things, but Barry drinks every tiny detail down like he’s dying of thirst, savoring every drop of new information he finds out like he has to make them last. 

Sometimes he doesn’t even understand why he wants to know so badly and then sometimes he looks at Dr. Wells, sees his eyes when he slides his glasses off, and just wants to get his hands on him and crawl inside him to find out what he really is. 

“He’ll never love you, you know,” Hartley says when they’re finished, back stiff and straight against the wall his cot is shoved up against. “He only loves his work.”

Barry doesn’t tell him that that’s not what this is about because honestly, he’s long forgotten what it _is_ about, and because fucking with Hartley is one of the few pleasures he gets out of life these days. 

“Yeah,” Barry says, smiling smugly back at Hartley before he slips out. “But I am his work.”

The look on Hartley’s face was more than worth it.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You had rose hips when we danced_

“Like this,” Bruce says again and clasps Jason’s hands in his. Jason’s palm is sweaty where it presses against Bruce’s hand, where Bruce’s hand practically swallows his up, and then Bruce is pressing the other one to the small of Jason’s back right above the waist of his jeans and the music starts up again. 

Bruce moves them around the room, leading Jason through the steps of some fancy fucking dance he’s supposed to learn for an undercover thing they’re doing in a few weeks, and Jason’s never hated anything more in his life. It’s stupid and pointless and he can’t remember the steps, and Bruce just keeps starting the music over and making Jason practice again and again until he gets it right. 

He never gets it right though. He’s always stepping on Bruce’s toes or stepping back when he should be stepping forward, and it’s so fucking frustrating. He wrenches his hands away from Bruce and shoves his hands into his hair, tries not to let loose the scream threatening to bubble out of his chest. They’ve been at it for fucking hours. His feet hurt, he’s sweating, his stomach is growling, and he’s just not getting it. Fuck it, Bruce can probably handle this mission without him anyway. 

“I hate this,” Jason grits out and he looks up when Bruce’s fingertips brush over his hips and he pulls him close, not at arms length like he’s been all night, but right up against him. He smells like sweat and the cologne that Jason sometimes steals to make his hoodie smell like him, and just like that all the tension slides out of Jason’s shoulders. He lays his head on Bruce’s chest, listens to the solid, rhythmic beating of his heart instead of the stupid, boring music they’ve been listening to for hours. Bruce’s hands settle on the small of his back and he starts swaying back and forth and Jason reaches up, loops his arms around his neck, and just like that, they’re dancing. 

It’s not the fucking waltz or the foxtrot or the goddamn pasodoble, but it’s Bruce and it’s him and it’s perfect, and somewhere in there Jason forgets how tired he was of dancing and kind of wants it to last forever.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jay: "favorite"

“Tell me I was your favorite,” Jason says, grin sharp against Bruce’s throat as he hooks his legs around him and attempts to wrap his fingers around the circumference of his arms; his fingertips come close to touching, but not quite. 

“You know I can’t do that,” Bruce smirks, hands rough and sweaty where they frame Jason’s hips. “That would be _wrong._ ”

“Aw, come on,” Jason says and gets rewarded with a rare moan out of Bruce’s mouth when he drags his nail down his back. “I can keep a secret. You know me.”

“I do know you,” Bruce growls and snaps his hips, biting Jason’s mouth when he groans. “That is entirely the problem.”

Jason grins against Bruce’s mouth and bites back, bites hard, until Bruce makes a noise into his mouth and Jason tastes blood on his tongue. “Come on,” he says. “Just say it.”

Bruce leans down and licks the blood off of Jason’s mouth, gets his hand in his hair and _pulls._ “I’ve _told_ you,” he says. “You’re all my favorite.”

“Really?” Jason asks. “Do you fuck all of your favorites, then?”

Bruce growls against his throat, bites the skin there until Jason whimpers. “You know I don’t.” 

“I don’t though,” Jason says and Bruce realizes suddenly that his voice is softer, his nails no longer cutting into his skin. He pulls back and grabs Jason’s face, kisses him slow and sweet, pulls back and kisses the corners of his mouth, each eyelid. 

“Only you,” Bruce murmurs against Jason’s forehead, rocking into him slow but deep, fucking him until Jason swears and throws his head back, holds onto Bruce so tight Bruce can feel the whirls of his fingerprints seared into his bones. 

Later that night when Jason is snoring softly next to him, has kicked the sheets completely off and Bruce is laying awake on his side, fingers tracing the map of scars on his back, he leans in and murmurs something in Jason’s ear. 

It’s wrong. It’s unfair. It’s something he shouldn’t even _think_ , much less say. 

It doesn’t mean it’s not true.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason & Tim: in which Rachel and I thought it would be hilarious if Tim wore Jason down by killing him with kindness.

“What the fuck is this?” Jason snaps, looking down at the box Tim had set on the edge of the roof.

“Your favorite,” Tim grins, bounces on his heels a little. “Chili dogs from that street vendor off 3rd street.”

Jason is actually speechless for about three seconds, which is kind of a victory in itself. “You realize I fucking hate you,” he says, but he snatches the box up _before_ he knocks Tim out and flees, so Tim counts it as a win.

 

***

 

“Stop _following_ me,” Jason growls, swinging a fist, but he connects with brick instead of Tim’s face when the little shit ducks and rolls out of the way. 

“I wasn’t following you,” he says. “I saw you getting your ass handed to you while I was flying over and thought I’d help out.”

“Why?” Jason asks sharply, flinging a knife in Tim’s direction; it catches the corner of his cape, tears it a little. “If I saw you with a pile of baddies on top of you I’d light up a smoke, maybe have some popcorn.”

Tim yanks the knife out of his cape, turns it around and offers it back to Jason with a smile. “No you wouldn’t.”

 

***

 

“Hey,” Tim says, landing on the roof behind Jason. “What’s up?”

He deflects the batarang Jason flings at him with his staff. 

“Seriously,” Jason drawls. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. Are you really this much of an idiot or do you just have a death wish?”

“You’re not going to kill me,” Tim says. “Or you would’ve done it already.”

Jason looks like he’s going to _explode_. “Stop...just _stop_. Whatever it is you’re doing, cut it the fuck out. I don’t like you. We aren’t _friends._. Leave me the fuck alone or I swear to god, next time I won’t miss.”  
***

 

“Jason?”

Tim looks up from his laptop to see Jason fall through his window gracelessly. 

“Ow,” Jason groans and pulls a flashlight out from under his ass. 

Tim bites the corner of his cheek to keep from laughing. “What the hell.”

Jason stands up and crosses his arms over his chest, looks like he’s trying to look menacing, but then he steps in a takeout container that Tim left lying around and the effort is kind of lost. 

“I thought Croc ate you or something,” he grumbles. “You haven’t been in face in at least a week.”

“The Titans needed me for something,” Tim says, narrowing his eyes. On one hand, if he says something stupid he could scare Jason off like a paranoid stray cat. On the other hand, he can’t help himself. “Jason. Did you miss me?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jason mutters and when he stalks across the room Tim almost flinches, but then he just snatches open the pizza box on the coffee table and steals a slice, flopping back onto the couch next to Tim before making a terrible face. “Ugh, replacement. _Olives_? I seriously hate you.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, trying to hide his grin behind his laptop. “I know.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay/Tim + Roy: (973):
> 
> I just woke up to three voicemails from you. In the first one you just straight laughed for 3 minutes. In the second you did bird calls. In the third you were hysterically crying. Have fun last night?

“Have fun last night?” Tim asks, cradling the phone between his face and his shoulder as he cuts up kiwi to add to his smoothie. 

Jason groans loudly into the phone and that’s the only response Tim gets for a few minutes, though he can hear a bit of shuffling and the sound of the phone being dropped at least once. “Still there?”

“Fraid so,” Tim says and starts slicing a banana. 

“Fuck,” Jason mutters. “Fuckin...Harper!”

Tim winces at the volume and sets the phone down on the counter, turning the speaker on. Jason’s grumbling something about Irish car bombs and leprechauns and goddamn gingers, but Tim can’t make sense of any of it. 

“Roy where the fuck’s my...why the fuck are you wearing my pants, they don’t even fit you.”

Tim shakes his head, can vaguely hear Roy saying something in the background, and adds the bananas to the blender with the kiwi, pours a little pineapple juice on top.

“Just a sec,” Jason says, probably to get his pants back from Roy, and Tim uses that time to mix up his smoothie. He’s pouring it into a glass when Jason says, “Kay. What’s up?”

“Oh nothing,” Tim says. “Just thought I’d give you a call back.”

“A call...back?” Jason asks.

“Uh huh,” Tim says. “I woke up to three voicemails from you. I thought something had happened, you know. That it was important.”

Jason mumbles something on the other line that sounds incredibly profane.

“Turns out it was mostly you making bird calls and rattling off basically every bird pun you could come up with.”

“Oh jesus.”

“The second one was just you laughing for about three minutes straight. I don’t suppose you remember what was so funny?”

“Emphatically not,” Jason groans. 

“And the third one,” Tim says, grinning a little. “The third one was my favorite.”

“I will literally pay you not to tell me,” Jason almost sounds like he’s begging. Tim can hear Roy laugh in the background. 

“You were crying,” Tim says. “Hysterically. You just kept apologizing over and over.”

“I’m going to _kill_ him,” Jason grits out.

“It was so sweet,” Tim says, enjoying every nanosecond of this. “You were just so _sorry_ about everything.”

Tim hears something smash, hears Roy yelp. “And of course I’ll go out with you, Jason.”

The line goes quiet for so long that Tim thinks he might have hung up. 

“I asked you,” Jason says slowly. “To go out.”

“Well,” Tim says. “You said you wanted to make it up to me and gave me the choice of a handjob or a blowjob. I translated.”

“Wow,” Jason says. “Drunk me is kind of a slut.”

 _Kind of has that in common with sober you, huh, Jaybird_? Tim hears Roy say loud enough that Tim imagines he’s standing pretty close. 

Tim just laughs. “Pick me up on Friday,” he says. “Wear something without holes in it.”

“Fuck you,” Jason says, but he shows up in a button down and a pair of jeans that look like they just came off the rack. Tim still gets his blowjob, but at least he made Jason buy him dinner first.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Tim Drake/Roy Harper, (325) I have beard burns on my inner thighs. I'd say last night went pretty well.

"Well," Jason drawls. He sounds tired and sort of drunk and Tim wants to ask how it's going with Bruce, but knowing Jason he just wants to bury himself in a bottle (or Tim, if he was in the same zipcode) and pretend like everything's fine. "Did you like the present I sent you?"

"Mm," Tim says. Roy showed up about eight last night and Tim's pretty sure he's only taken his mouth off his dick to talk shit, eat, and drink Coronas. He's back at it again as a matter of fact, woke Tim up with his mouth against his hip, wet and slick as he dragged it over the bone, then dipped his head and swallowed him down, moaned like Tim had been depriving him of something by needing to sleep. "Well, I think I've got beard burn on the inside of my thighs, if that - _ah_ \- tells you anything."

"Jesus," Jason mutters. "So, you like him, then? You two having fun?"

The string of filthy words Tim lets out at the moment is pure coincidence, but Jason just laughs, says, "Good. 'Cause when I get home I'm gonna show you just how he likes to have that dirty mouth of his fucked."

Tim comes so hard he blacks _out_.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Tim/Jason, my lover I would rather be under than getting over you.

Jason broke up with him three and a half weeks ago, but it was over long before that. It's been months since Jason looked at him with that fierceness in his eyes, grabbed Tim and held him against the nearest surface like he was afraid Tim would try to get away, kissed him with such passion Tim thought it was going to burn him up from the inside. 

It's been months since Jason laughed, laid his head in Tim's lap while they watched stupid tv, months since he called him baby, straddled him as soon as he woke up and let Tim fuck him until they both screamed.

The whole time Tim knew it wouldn't last. Jason's too unstable, too flighty, can't stay in one spot for too long, or with one person. He knew the whole time, five months and seventeen days, that this would happen. It doesn't make it any easier to move on. 

Jason, with all his recklessness and eccentricities, his loud mouth and his unapologetic perchance for violence, is the only thing Tim's ever wanted. He wanted him before he even knew him and know that he's had him he's reluctant to give that back. 

"Gotta stop coming here," Jay says as he works open Tim's pants. 

"Uh huh," Tim says, tilting his head back and sighing when Jason gets down on his knees, swallows him down.

He knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't keep showing up at Jason's place, red-eyed and jittery from little to no sleep, talking and talking about nothing until Jason figures it out, shoves him up against a wall and tells him just shut up. 

He knows he's supposed to be getting over him, but when Jason crawls up his body, hands planted on Tim's chest and gives Tim that crooked little smile when he sinks down on his cock, Tim forgets why they ever stopped doing this in the first place.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Jason Todd/any, phone sex

"Talk to me."

Jason doesn't know how in the fuck Bruce got the number of the burner phone he _just_ picked up, but whatever. It's about to be in the trash.

"Yeah, I'm hanging up n-"

"Jay," Bruce says impatiently and the name cuts right through Jason, right through years and memories and death, warms a part of him that's been cold for so long. "Please, just...say something. Anything. I just want to--"

"Hear my voice?" Jason asks wryly. "Aww, B. That's so sweet. You wanna take me out, too? Maybe that little Italian place we used to go to, yeah? Wanna hold my hand under the table, feed me tiramisu?" 

Three hours ago they were fighting to the death. Jason's still got an angry, bleeding gash in his shoulder from a fucking batarang to remind him of it. 

"Jason, I --"

"No," Jason says. "That wasn't the deal. You wanted me to talk? I'll talk. You shut up."

"Okay," Bruce says and miraculously, he does and it kind of puts Jason at a loss for words. 

"You're fucked up, you know that? You don't know what you want. Never did though, did you?" Jason props his feet up on the coffee table in the apartment he's squatting in. "Remember how many times you turned me down before you finally gave in? I knew you wanted it, B. It was just a matter of wearing you down."

And despite how angry he is, how much fucking hate he feels for Bruce now, the memories still hold weight and Jason starts palming himself through his jeans just thinking about it. "God, I was so hot for you." Jason says, squeezing himself "All I could ever think about was getting your dick in my mouth."

"Jay--"

"Shut up," Jason snaps, flicks open the button on his jeans and slides his hand inside, tilts his head back and closes his eyes. "Remember the first tie you let me? On that rooftop right after taking down Riddler? Remember how I gagged a little at first?"

"God..."

"It's funny," Jason says. "I still kinda like that."

He can hear Bruce's breathing pick up through the phone and Jason brings his palm down his mouth, licks until its wet and starts fisting his cock while he talks. "I remember your hands in my hair," he says, panting through each word. "How you tasted when you came down my throat."

"Jay--"

"I remember the first time we fucked, in your bed like it was something from a goddamn Ringwald movie. So slow and sweet at first, but then it wasn't always slow and sweet, was it Bruce?"

Jason pushes his jeans off, spreads his legs and gets a better grip.

"Nah, once you got a taste you wanted more. Remember your favorite thing?"

"You," Bruce says earnestly and it makes Jason's chest go tight, makes his hand stop for a brief second.

"Sweet," Jason says. "But no. I mean your favorite way of fucking me."

The line is quiet for a minute, but Jason gives it to him, wants to hear him say it.

"I liked it when you were on top," Bruce says and Jason grips himself even tighter. "I liked seeing your face when you sank down on me and I stretched you open."

" _Fuck_ ," Jason swears, the memories and Bruce's voice and his hand around his cock almost too much. "Felt so good, too. Fuck, Bruce. If you were here right now I'd ride you so fucking hard you'd forget what fucking planet you were on."

"Jason," Bruce gasps.

"Yeah," Jason moans, fucking his fist. "One more time, B. Let me hear you come for me one more time."

" _Jay_ ," Bruce lets out a sharp gasp, chased by a deep, guttural groan and Jason bites almost clean through his bottom lip, spilling all over his fingers and slumps back against the couch.

"That was fun," Jason says after a minute, listening to the way Bruce breathes and committing it to memory. "Call me again and you'll find your streets littered with bodies." He says and hangs up.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Tim Drake/Jason Todd(/any), piercing kink

Dick's elbow is sharp and bony when he nudges it into Jason's ribs. "Jay."

"Fuckin'-" Jay says, then follows Dick's gaze across the cave to where Tim's half changed out of his suit, the top half pulled down around his waist. He'd stopped to reply to a text and Jason sees exactly what has rendered Dick monosyllabic. "Oh, hello."

"Yeah, I --"

Jason laughs, crosses his arms over his chest. "Dibs."

"What? You can't -- that's terrible, Jay."

"Your face is terrible," Jason says. " _Dibs_."

But the thing is, Dick is just as competitive as Jason is and they practically race each other across the cave to get to Tim, who just looks up at them with a confused, innocent expression on his face when they stop at his feet, out of breath and pink in the face. 

"Oh hey, baby bird," Jason jumps in first. "When'd you get _that_?" He walks right up into Tim's space, brushes his thumb over the tiny silver bar in Tim's nipple and grins wide when Tim shudders a little, his skin breaking out in little goosebumps all over. 

"Oh that," he says, cheeks flushing pink. "Um."

"It's cool," Jason says. "We all go through a little rebellious phase."

"Phase?" Dick says. "I'm pretty sure you --"

"Dickie here got a tongue ring after he moved out," Jason grins. "And let me tell you, they are definitely as --"

"Jay."

Tim wills himself to stop blushing, turns to Jason. "And what did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you get something pierced or --"

Dick laughs. "Oh no. Little wing here got -- oh, I'll let him tell you."

Jason shrugs. "I got a tattoo."

"Of a bat," Dick practically howls, but Tim's not laughing, just looking at Jason with that same intense, curious look that's practically default on his face, biting his bottom lip.

"Can," he says. "Can I see it?"

Jason flashes a triumphant grin at Dick, then turns back to Tim. "Thought you'd never ask."


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Roy Harper/+Harley Quinn, cheap and cheerful

"You know, you're kinda cute," Harley says, poking her finger into one of his dimples. Her fingers smell like the bubblegum in her mouth and the cheap beer they're drinking.

"You're not so bad yourself," Roy grins and he's just drunk enough to steal a look down her top, wink at her as another crowd of people file into the bar. He wants to fuck her, but the thing is, he's kind of enjoying just hanging out with her too. She's fun and more cheerful than someone who's been through the shit she's been through should be, giggles at all his stupid jokes and Roy can tell it's authentic because she kind of snorts one time. She likes dancing like no one's watching and singing Spice Girls songs, cheap cigarettes and even cheaper beer, and Roy thinks they could kind of, maybe, be friends if things were different. 

She ends up dragging him into the ladies room anyway, drops her panties and wraps her legs around him, says " _come on, cutie, fuck my brains out_ ," and Roy does his best. He buries his face in her tits and bounces her on his dick, pounds her up against the stall door until she comes, giggling while she scrapes her nails down his back so hard and deep it makes him whine.

She tucks her panties into Roy's pocket before she pats him on the cheek and walks out, humming _Benny and the Jets_.

Roy's only regret is that he never got to kiss her.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Dick Grayson+Jason Todd, BtVS AU - Dick's the Slayer, Jason shows up after he "dies"

“ _I’m_  the Slayer,” Dick says and he doesn’t  _care_  how petulant he sounds, ignores the disapproving look Bruce shoots him.  
  
“Yeah no,” the new kid says. “Pretty sure that’s me now, pretty boy.”  
  
(He has a little bit harder of a time ignoring the way Bruce’s mouth quirks up in the corner -- closest thing he’s seen to a smile on his face in months.)  
  
“You did die,” Bruce says, folding his arms over his chest, looking Jason up and down appraisingly.   
  
“Only for  _minutes_ ,” Dick argues, even though he knows it’s pointless. Obviously Jason’s here, with powers that come close to matching his own, which he demonstrated just fifteen minutes ago when he damn near kicked Dick’s ass.   
  
“Still. In those few minutes you were gone Jason must have been activated somehow.”   
  
“Yep,” Jason says, popping his ‘p’ as he walks around the library, fiddling with statues and talismans. Bruce twitches when he picks up a centuries old tome. “It was pretty wild. One minute I was digging in the trash for Bagelheads’ leftovers to keep from starving, the next I was kicking some serious undead ass.”  
  
Dick steals a brief glance at Bruce, who looks  _horrified,_  and decides to let go of his pettiness for now. “So, you’re pretty good,” he says to Jason. “From what I saw earlier. You know, when you tried to kill me.”  
  
“Hey,” Jason says, holding his hands out. “You came at me, man. How was I supposed to know you were a good guy?”  
  
“Because,” Dick says. “I’m the --”  
  
“You are very skilled,” Bruce interrupts. “Who is your Watcher?”  
  
“Watcher?” Jason squints, pops his gum.  
  
Dick blinks. “Yeah, like Bruce. Bruce is my Watcher. Every Slayer --”  
  
“Oh,” Jason says, flipping a stake over and over. “I just thought he was your boyfriend.”  
  
Bruce pretends like he didn’t hear any of that, raises an eyebrow at Jason. “You don’t have a Watcher?”  
  
“Nah,” Jason shrugs. “Don’t need a babysitter. Or a sugar daddy or whatever. I pretty much got this whole slaying thing down. If it’s got sharp teeth and a weird bumpy face it’s meeting the pointy end of my stake. End of story.”  
  
“Yes,” Bruce says. “But you know that’s not all there is, right?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dick jumps in. “Have you ever even seen a demon?”  
  
  
“Pretty sure my stepdad was straight from hell,” Jason says conversationally, then looks up at Dick. “Oh shit, you’re serious? Demons?”  
  
“Yes,” Bruce says. “Some of the most vicious, vile, dangerous --”  
  
But Jason isn’t listening to him anymore. He’s grinning at Dick, practically bouncing on his heels like a sugared-up kid, brimming with excitement.   
  
“Show me ‘em,” he says and Dick looks at Bruce, shrugs.   
  
“Sure,” he says, can’t deny how much he’s been aching for a decent brawl, or how he’s looking forward to showing off in front of this punk kid who thinks he can just waltz in and steal his job just because Dick  _maybe_  died for a second or two. Besides, it makes Bruce nervous when he goes looking for trouble and that’s pretty much what Dick lives for. He grabs an axe and hands it to Jason, ignoring Bruce’s disapproving scowl. “Sounds like fun.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Jason Todd/always-a-girl!Roy Harper, what the fuck is ladylike?

“So, he said I couldn’t go to his fancy party,” Roy says, sitting backwards in one of the kitchen chairs with her hand in a bag of Cheetos. “Because I can’t -- “ She holds the bag in her mouth to make air quotes. “ _act like a lady._ ’ What the fuck does that even mean?” She says, puts the bag on the table to lick the orange cheeto dust off her fingers and then wipes them across the front of her white tank top.  
  
“I dunno. Probably something to do with how I can see your underwear right now,” Jason says, leaning up against the counter with a Red Bull in hand, leering at the decidedly  _un_ ladylike way Roy is sitting, still in the ugly khaki school uniform skirt. “A fact I am super shocked about, by the way. I wasn’t aware you owned any.”  
  
Roy flips him off with a smile just about as sweet as vinegar. “I don’t think I heard you complaining after fifth period.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Jason says and his eyes haven’t traveled far from Roy’s thighs, a fading purple bite mark on the inside of the right one from earlier, when he pushed her up against the bathroom stall door, pulled her legs up on his shoulders, and let Roy grind against his face until she came, a scrunchi shoved in her mouth to muffle her screams.  
  
“Besides,” Roy says, spreading her legs even wider, slipping her hand down between her thighs. Her eyes flutter when she starts touching herself and Jason’s dick gets so hard so fast his vision goes a little blurry. “You wouldn’t know what to do with a lady, Jaybird.”  
  
“Maybe not,” Jason says, licking his lips as Roy rubs her clit, using her other hand to pull her tank top down, get one of her tits out and squeeze. “But I know what to do with you.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, always-a-girl!Jason Todd/Tim Drake), this tornado loves you

“You’re like a tornado,” Tim says, cocking his head a little to the side as he takes her in, blood in her hair and on her cheek, the same shade as her lipstick. There’s a pile of dead bodies at her feet and she took them all down with her bare _hands_. “I’ve been watching you.”

This time she looks up at him, wild-eyed and beautiful, blinks her long, dark eyelashes and wipes her bloody hand on her jeans.

“You destroy everything in your path, no rhyme or reason to it.”

“You should probably get out of my way then,” she smiles sharply, steps over one of the bodies and gets right up in Tim’s space until he can feel her breasts brush his chest. She smells like cigarettes and vanilla and there's a scrape over her right eye that might need stitches. “Before I wreck _you_.”

Tim steps out of the way, turns to watch her leave. “Did you ever think,” he says as she throws a leg over her bike. “That I might enjoy that?”

There’s lightning in her eyes when she looks back at him, smiles like maybe she's thought about that a lot, actually. “Hop on, then.”


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, always-a-girl!Jay/Roy Harper(/Dick Grayson), Everytime I see your face I think of things unpure, unchaste

"So, how did you like hanging out with the Teen Titans this week, Jay?" Dick plops down on the couch next to Roy, sucks on the juice box in his hand. "Was it everything you'd thought it would be?"  
  
Roy stares intently at the game on the tv, not at Jay as she turns a smile to Dick and spews some bullshit about how it really was a great learning experience and how she'd love to help out again if they ever need her. She blinks her pretty eyelashes and Dick eats it all up, beaming with pride. He has no idea that Jay slipped into Roy's room last night in nothing but her t-shirt and panties, crawled under Roy's sheets and swallowed him down so deep it made  _Roy's_  eyes water.   
  
"Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Dick says and Jay looks over at Roy, smiles like a siren, and all Roy can think of is how she slipped her panties off after she let him come in her mouth, how she tasted when she sat on his face, her soft, tiny hands gripping his hair tight as she rode his tongue.   
  
"Oh," Jay grins, twisting her hair up into a messy bun, looking at Roy likes she wants to eat him  _up._  "I definitely did that."


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman Beyond, Bruce Wayne/Terry McGinnis, he may be getting kind of obsessed with the line of Terry's body in the suit

Terry moves like nothing he's ever seen, more like Dick than Jason or Barbara the way he can bend and twist, but still different than all of them put together. Something new.  
  
Something absolutely sinful.  
  
For the longest time he doesn't really see Terry, only sees mistakes and carelessness, sees every way Terry can die out there, another fallen soldier. But then Terry surprises him. Terry  _becomes_  him, and one day it's like Bruce's eyes finally open and there he is, peeling the mask off as he gets out of the plane and walks toward him, the line of his body in the suit so tempting Bruce has to grip his cane tight and climb the stairs to the manor, muttering something about feeding Ace.  
  
He tries to put it in the back of his head, tries to remember what always happens when he goes down this road, swears that's not going to happen this time. Not with Terry.   
  
And it works well -- as long as he's not in the same room with him. But the second Terry shows up in the suit after patrol or after school in those painted on jeans he wears, tight t-shirt clinging to his newly defined muscle, all those terrible thoughts come rushing back to him.   
  
He wants to get his hands on Terry, feel all that hard muscle, mark up his perfect, flawless skin and make Terry beg for more, for everything. And Bruce would give it to him, is the thing.   
  
"You're staring," Terry smirks and Bruce blinks. Terry's leaning against the console with his hip, taking licks from a lollipop he stole from a bully who'd stolen it from trick or treaters, and he looks so goddamn tempting Bruce wants to take him right  _there_ , tear the suit down and bend him over the console and --  
  
"It's okay," Terry says, pulling the sucker out of his mouth with a lewd, wet pop. His lips are cherry red and sticky with sugar and Bruce  _wants._  He watches as Terry throws the sucker in the trash and walks over, gets right up in Bruce's space and grins. "So was I."


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Tim Drake/Jason Todd, it's a whole lot more than a crush

“ _It’s more than some little crush.”_ Tim overhears his mother say.  _“I saw the pictures, Jack. There must be_ hundreds _of them. I’m concerned.”_  
  
Tim pulls his legs up to his chest, leans his head back against the wall. They don’t understand.  _No one_  understands. He’s not obsessed with Jason Todd. He’s not  _stalking_  him. He’s just taking pictures. Doing research. One day Jason’s going to slip up and Tim will have his proof right there on film. Proof that Jason is Robin, which means that Bruce Wayne is Batman, prove that he hasn’t been crazy this whole time.  
  
Maybe then his parents will finally stop making him go to Dr. Quinzel. Maybe then they’ll stop looking at him like he’s a ticking time bomb, stop talking to him like he’s made of glass, like he’s going to shatter if they don’t choose the right words.   
  
Tim slips his hand under his pillow and pulls out the photo of Jason as Robin, strokes the glossy surface with the tips of his fingers. It was raining when Tim took this picture and he had to use his jacket to protect his camera, but he still got the perfect shot of Jason propped up against a brick wall, exhaling a cloud of smoke, looking so cool it makes Tim seethe with jealousy.  
  
The door to his parents room slams shut and Tim tucks the picture safely away under his pillow but keeps his fingers curled around it as he falls asleep.   
  
Soon he’ll have proof and Jason will see how smart he is.   
  
Maybe then they can finally be friends.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd, marines AU

‘You’re drunk,” Bruce says and it’s with the same flat, mildly disapproving, but somehow vaguely amused tone as Jason stumbled over the threshold and barrels right into his chest.  
  
“Hi,” he says, looking up at thin line of Bruce’s mouth, his hand flat against Bruce’s chest. He can feel the slow, steady thump-thump of his heart against his palm and Jason wants to put his mouth there, wants to --  
  
“You shouldn’t be here,” Bruce said and his fingers make a loose circle around Jason’s wrist as he pulls it away from his chest, holds Jason’s arm next to his side. Still, they’re so close Jason can tell Bruce has been drinking too, can smell the whiskey on his breath, the faint smell of charcoal on his clothes from where he must have grilled out earlier.   
  
“Think we passed shouldn’ts three blowjobs ago,” Jason says and tries to slide his mouth against Bruce’s but he stumbles and Bruce catches him, grabs him and holds him up against the wall.  
  
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Bruce says and his eyebrows furrow the way they do when he’s overthinking something. Then his mouth quirks down the way it always does, usually right before he gives the order to light shit up. That’s all Jason needs.  
  
Bruce’s mouth parts this time when Jason leans forward and licks into it, cups the back of his head and feels the freshly shaved hairs bristle against his fingertips. Bruce growls against his mouth and pins him to the wall with his hips, his mouth, fucking his tongue into him with so much need that Jason wonders just how long he’s been thinking about doing this again, wants to kick his ass for holding out on him. The ass kicking can come later though. Right now he’s a little busy getting bent over Bruce’s kitchen table, having his jeans yanked down so hard he gets friction burns on his hips.  
  
He feels Bruce  _all_  over him when he leans over him, murmurs next to his ear, “I’m your CO.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jason says. “If you want me to call you sir you can f-”  
  
“No,” Bruce says, then sinks his teeth into Jason’s neck and Jason forgets all english, forgets how to  _breath_  for a few seconds. “Tell me you want it,” Bruce whispers and Jason grips the edge of the table. He hasn’t begged for anything -- hell, he hasn’t  _asked_  for anything in so long he doesn’t know if he remembers how. He doesn’t even know if he should. In the very back of his mind, he knows this thing they have is fucked up. That it can fuck  _everything_  up, especially for Bruce.   
  
“Jason,” Bruce says and Jason hears the apprehensive edge to his tone, knows it’s only seconds before Bruce takes his hands off his hips, before he pulls away and tells him to go home, and before Jason can even  _think_  about it, the  _please_ slips out of his mouth easier than anything and Bruce sighs against his skin, presses his lips to the nape of Jason’s neck.   
  
“You’re ruining me,” Bruce says as he pushes inside, fills Jason up, and it sounds a lot like  _I’d risk everything for you._


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MCU, any, making a pillow fort - clint/kate

Kate's the best. Not just because she's a great shot or better at being an adult than him or that she taught him how to illegally download every episode of M*A*S*H. She's the best because she can predict his moods like Clint's joints can predict an oncoming storm and she somehow knows exactly what he needs, whether its a swift kick in the ass or telling him how stupid he's being or something else entirely.  
  
"Get up," she rolls her eyes and grabs his arm, pulling him off the couch, down to the floor.  
  
"Wha?" Clint asks, but he's too tired to argue so he just lays there, watching her from his side as she pulls every cushion off the couch, disappears into his room and comes out with her arms full of pillows and quilts. She does some crazy things with the cushions that he's pretty sure defies the laws of physics, then throws one of the quilts on top of the whole shebang and crawls inside.  
  
"You coming or not, Hawkeye?" She says and Clint rolls onto his stomach and crawls through the tiny opening. There's just enough room inside for the two of them. It's dark and warm and he can smell her fancy perfume a lot stronger in here. She's pressed up against him, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder and Clint wants to say something, maybe say  _everything_ , but he doesn't really know where to start, or where he'd even stop.   
  
"Katie," he says, his voice breaking, but she shushes him with a finger to her mouth.  
  
"No feelings inside the blanket fort," she says. "Rule number one."  
  
Clint leans against the back of the couch and lets Kate slump against him. "Whatever you say, Hawkeye."


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU/Reservoir Dogs, Jason Todd/Tim Drake, one of them is a crook, the other is an undercover cop

“Mr. Red,” Tim says over the menu when the man slides into the booth across from him. 

“Blue,” Red nods and orders a cup of coffee and the special, lights up a cigarette while he waits.

“What in the fuck is grits,” Tim says after the waitress walks off and Mr. Red smirks, taps the ashes out in his napkin.

“You’re in the south now, sweetheart,” He says and leans forward and Tim can smell the nicotine on his breath and the heavy cologne he wears. “When in Rome and all that horseshit.” 

“Hm,” is all Tim says, unrolls his napkin and sits his fork and knife next to each other as Mr. Red tells him about the next heist. It’s all in code -- something about picking Betty up from the sitter’s on Tuesday after the matinee -- but it translates clearly in Tim’s mind and no one around them is any wiser. 

“So fucking hot down here, I can’t fuckin’ stand it,” Mr. Red complains. He complains about everything. About their food taking too long, about the kid three tables down who keeps throwing it’s stupid juice cup on the ground, about how bright the goddamn sun is. “Can’t even wear any fuckin’ shorts, you know?”

Tim smiles at the waitress as she sits their plates in front of them, then rushes off with color in her cheeks. 

“Jesus, you share too fucking much,” Tim says and Mr. Red just winks, reaches under the table and readjusts himself. 

 

***

 

“I’m not calling you Mr. Blue with my cock up your ass,” Mr. Red says, looking at their reflection in the hotel mirror as he bends Tim over the dresser. “Tell me your name.”

“That’s not --” Tim says and Mr. Red snaps his hips, his fingers pressed into Tim’s bones. “ _Fuck._  Tim. It’s -- Tim.”

“Jason,” Mr. Red says and Tim sees him lick his lips in the mirror, watching the way his cock stretches Tim open before he starts fucking him so hard the shitty paintings on the walls shake on their hangings. “Scream it for me, baby.”

Tim does. He screams Jason’s name until he’s hoarse, until it rings in his head, over and over, until it’s all he can think about and he can’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tries.

He knows his name now. There's no going back. 

 

***

 

He’s bleeding out, gunshot wound in his fucking shoulder from Jason’s dumbass, trigger happy partner Mr. Ginger, and the cops are on their way. His shirt is wet with blood and Jason’s hands are covered in it, pulling Tim in his lap, grasping Tim’s face between his hands, smearing his blood all over his face.

“Fuck,” he stutters out and Tim’s never heard him sound so -- helpless. Scared. His hands are shaking on Tim’s face and he keeps grabbing at him like he thinks -- like Tim’s not bleeding out in some warehouse full of coke, too fucking far from a hospital or an ambulance to do a damn bit of good. “Tim, we gotta…”

“Run,” Tim chokes out, grabbing Jason’s hand and Jason’s eyes are wet, his bottom lip trembling. It’s so wrong. Everything went so fucking  _wrong._  “You -- I’m a cop. Jason --”

Jason shakes even harder, stares down at Tim like he doesn’t even  _know_  him and Tim guesses that’s fair because he doesn’t, but it still hurts worse than the bullet lodged into his muscle, tearing him open. 

“You have to,” he splutters, starts choking on blood. “Run.  _Now._ ”

“You’re a cop,” Jason says and it even sounds wrong when he says it, sounds like a fucking  _lie._  He’s not letting go of him. The sirens are getting closer and Tim’s bleeding out and Jason’s staring down at him like he wants to finish the job and he’s  _not letting go._  

The cops burst in the door and draw on them and Jason’s still looking at him, doesn’t even flinch when they train all their weapons on him. “You lie about Coney Island too, you piece of shit?” 

It’s code. He’s still talking in fucking code and holding Tim’s face in his hands and Tim can’t --

“Yeah,” Tim says and clutches Jason’s jacket, pulls him down so he can whisper in his ear, pretends like he doesn’t hear the gun being cocked. “Take me there some time, will you?”

 


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, (845): I think I found an E pill under the couch.. Or really bad tasting candy. Check back in 30min this could get exciting

_I think I found an E pill under the couch.. Or really bad tasting candy. Check back in 30min this could get exciting_  
  
Jason rolls his eyes and puts his phone back in his pocket. Bruce has his arms folded over his chest, looking all severe as he explains to them why he has to die,  _again._  Jason is so beyond caring at this point, checks his phone again a few minutes later after Bruce and Tim have started planning out the boring detail of his demise.   
  
 _update: def candy. the totally awesome kind of candy that makes you want to rub your dick all over everything. where r u_  
  
 _Killing Batman,_  Jason texts back.  _I left you a note. Don’t rub your dick all over my stuff._  
  
When Jason looks up Damian’s trying to strangle Tim and Steph is telling Bruce how stupid he is using colorful, three dollar words that makes the tips of Bruce’s ears go pink.   
  
 _wanna rub it all over YOU, jaybird._  Roy texts back and Jason swallows. It’s fifteen minutes before he gets another text and then he gets three at once thanks to the shitty reception in the cave.  
  
 _god i forgot how good this feels  
  
fuck your sheets are like laying in a cloud, man  
  
sorry jaybird, couldn’t help it_  
  
Jason bites his lip.  _you naked?_  
  
 _duh  
  
everything feels fuckin awesome. the condensation from my beer dripped on me and I moaned like a porn star. think the neighbors heard me._  
  
Jason glances around to make sure everyone else is still busy, then reaches down to adjust his dick, maybe grind his hand against it a little. He can just imagine how Roy looks right now, completely naked and spread out on his sheets, writhing and moaning the way he does when Jason makes him wait forever before he touches him.   
  
 _porn stars suck less dick than you, harper_ , Jason shoots back and grins when Roy sends him a picture in reply of him flipping him off. Fuck, he looks good though, all sweaty and fucked up, his eyes more black than green, and Jason wishes like hell he were there right now instead of in the stupid cave, pretending like he doesn’t give a shit that Bruce is going to have to disappear for six months.   
  
 _when I get back you’re going to fuck me_  Jason texts because sometimes --  _sometimes_  --  
  
 _jesus, jay_  Roy texts back a few minutes later, immediately followed by a picture of the come all over his chest and stomach.  
  
 _you’re disgusting_  Jason texts but he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.  
  
Roy sends him back an entire line of kissy face emojis.   
  
 _love you too, sugar shorts._  
  
Jason hates him so much. 


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Tim/Jason, (214): 1. No more tequila 2. Why do you let me say slutty things? 3. I woke up and our apartment was covered in cake? 4. Love you

Tim sends the first text right after he wakes up, his head feeling like it’s going to crack open, his legs asleep from someone lying on them. He vaguely remembers that Jason had to catch an early flight to...somewhere. For something.   
  
 _no more tequila_  
  
The second one comes after he looks down and sees that it’s Roy, half on top of him, half hanging off the couch, drooling on Tim’s favorite shirt. Which just happens to be Jason’s shirt, but whatever. Roy stirs and drags his mouth across Tim’s stomach where his shirt has ridden up and Tim has a fuzzy memory of Roy licking salt from Jason’s skin, of Jason pouring a shot down Roy’s throat, of himself saying  _wow, your mouth is like porn_ , and Jason laughing right before --  
  
 _stop letting me say slutty things_  Tim texts with one eye open, then takes a few deep breathes and slides out from beneath Roy to stumble into the kitchen for a gatorade and some aspirin. On his way to the fridge he nearly slips and falls on a smear of pink frosting on the floor, looks around and sees that the entire fucking kitchen looks like a little girl’s birthday cake exploded everywhere.   
  
 _why is there cake everywhere?_  he texts and wipes the frosting from between his toes with a napkin, pulls out a gatorade and chugs half of it down along with four aspirin. Roy still hasn’t moved.  
  
Tim gets in the shower, gets dressed, runs down to the cafe down the street to get bagels for him and Roy, and when he’s walking in the door Jason finally responds to his texts.   
  
 _1\. There will always be tequila. 2. No one can stop you from saying slutty things, baby. You’re like a force of nature. 3.) It was your birthday, dumbshit._  
  
Oh, Tim thinks, turns pink when he remembers the awesome tiered cake Jason made him, even if he was a dick and wrote  _happy birthday princess_  across it and decorated it in glittery pink roses.   
  
He looks down at Roy and wipes the frosting off his nose, sucks it off his fingers. It’s really, really good. He really hopes some of the cake made it into his mouth last night.  
  
He’s smiling when he sends the fourth one.  
  
 _love you_    
  
 _you too, princess_  Jay texts back.  
  
 _happy birthday_


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU (any), any hero/sidekick pairing (not necessarily each other's hero/sidekick), sidekick character topping from the bottom
> 
> Bruce/Jason

Bruce wakes up and his hands are tied to the bed, the ropes twisted into impressively perfect knots.   
  
“I wanna play a game,” Jay says on top of him. He’s straddling Bruce’s thighs, naked as the day he was born.  
  
Jay has so many games Bruce can’t keep up.  
  
Bruce twists his head, looks back and studies the ropes, tugs against them with his wrists. He could probably get out in under ten minutes, maybe less than that if he wasn’t distracted with watching Jay slick his fingers up and work himself open.  
  
Jay makes this soft noise and Bruce stops pulling at the restraints, just watches.  
  
His teeth dig into his bottom lip as Jay sinks down on him, those strong, muscular thighs squeezing Bruce’s sides. Jay goes slow at first, gets himself used to the feeling, then he digs his nails into Bruce’s chest and starts to ride him.   
  
“ _Jay_ ,” Bruce says, tilts his hips up since he can’t use his hands, shoves himself deeper inside of him and Jay reaches down, twists his nipple painfully.  
  
“Not part of the game,” Jay says, his face and chest flushed, and goes back to fucking himself on Bruce’s cock.   
  
Bruce plays along but only because Jay looks so good like this, back arched and glistening with sweat, just lies still and watches as Jay lifts himself up and back down, listens to the sound of flesh against flesh and Jay’s breathy panting until he feels it start to build in him, tightening in his core.  
  
“Jason,” he gasps out, unconsciously pulling at the ropes from the need to  _touch_ , get his hands around Jason’s hips and bury himself deep.  
  
This only causes Jason to slow his pace, almost stopping completely, his hips only making little circles.  
  
Bruce huffs. “Not part of the game?”  
  
Jay just grins, drags his nails down Bruce’s chest, leaving deep, red streaks, making Bruce arch off the bed. “Now you’re getting it.”


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Bruce Wayne/Jason Todd, (630) I just fell in love with a beard, the guy it's attached to isn't great but I think I'm going to take one for the team

Roy texts him from across the room.  
  
 _don't do the thing_  
  
Jason ignores him, pockets his phone. Keeps staring at Bruce.  
  
 _JAY. DON'T DO THE THING._  
  
Bruce says something dry and clipped off, something that makes him sound exactly like the emotionally crippled asshole he is, standing there in his perfectly tailored suit, swirling red wine around in a glass. God, Jason hates him  _so much._  
  
 _where the fuck did you go_  
  
"Jesus christ you're an asshole," Jason says as he backs Bruce up against the wall, fucks his tongue into his mouth. "You don't even know half those people's names and they fucking worship you."  
  
"They worship my money," Bruce says and Jason guesses he has a point, but still. The persona he puts on for the public is just a little too close to his  _actual_  personality that it sets Jason off sometimes.  
  
He wasn't going to do this again. Last time was supposed to be the last time. It's been over twenty-one days. This bad habit is supposed to be  _broke._    
  
"Fuck," he says when Bruce mouths at his collarbone, shoves his hand down the back of Jason's pants. "Why'd you have to grow a  _beard_?"  
  
Bruce just chuckles against his skin, drops down to his knees in front of him. Jason comes with his hands on Bruce's face, his thighs rubbed red and raw from Bruce's beard, his phone vibrating in his back pocket.  
  
 _it was the beard wasn't it? beard slut._  
  
"He's not wrong," Bruce says, looking at the screen. Jason kind of wants to punch him in the face.   
  
He gets on his knees instead.


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fic starter prompt: "Don't trust me."

“Don’t trust me.” Jason says. “Not with anything, but especially not with this.”

“Who else, then?” Tim asks and Jason hears the threat in his tone, the _I’ll just get it somewhere else._ He thinks of someone else doing this to Tim, someone else’s hands around Tim’s neck, squeezing with enough pressure that it makes Tim’s cock spill all over his belly without being touched, just enough that his vision goes blurry and his arms and legs start to feel like they aren’t a part of him anymore and his eyelids flutter; only _just_ enough. 

“Why though,” Jason says instead, stroking his thumb over the bruises on Tim’s throat, three stripes where his fingers had been last night.

Tim closes his eyes, leans into the touch. “I’ve always liked it when you hurt me,” he says, then his eyes open, big and beautiful. “Do you think that’s fucked up?” 

“Yes,” Jason says, pushes Tim’s hair out of his eyes and kisses the bridge of his nose. 

“Are you going to stop?” 

Jason sighs, brings Tim’s wrist up to his mouth, presses his lips to the bruises circling the tiny bones there. “Probably not.”


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman (comics), Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson, I know what I’m trying  
> to say, but it isn’t  
> talking, the thing that I do with my mouth  
> to your ear, even though  
> we got the orifices right.

People think Bruce doesn’t communicate enough, but they just don’t know him like Dick knows him. Bruce talks to him all the time, it’s just not always in words. Dick doesn’t mind though; he’s pretty fluent in Bruce by now.

He says _thank you_ with his eyes, _good job_ with a quirk of his mouth. 

He tells Dick how much he needs him by the quickening of his pulse beneath Dick’s fingers, the way he squeezes Dick’s shoulder hard, _so_ hard when Dick wraps his mouth around him.

He shows him how much he loves him when they fight, fists or words that he won’t take back later, but Dick will know he wants to by the regret in his eyes, the way he slumps against the wall, and Dick forgives him not with words because words don’t really mean anything to either of them. He forgives him with his mouth, pressed against Bruce’s, slick and warm, crawls in Bruce’s lap and tells him with his hands, with his body, that he understands. That he loves him. That he needs him. 

Bruce gets his arms around him and kisses him back, hard, so hard, like he’s trying to keep Dick there with only his mouth, his hands strong against Dick’s back, and Dick wants to laugh.

People think Bruce doesn’t talk enough.

Dick thinks he says plenty.


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green Lantern (comics), Hal Jordan/Thaal Sinestro, hate

"You say that word quite often," Sinestro says. "I'm beginning to think you don't know what it means."  
  
Hal grits his teeth, doesn't say anything, just rolls onto his side.   
  
"I think this because generally right before you tell me how much you loathe me," Sinestro says, dragging one long finger down the column of Hal's spine. "You are literally begging me to fuck you."  
  
"Could you not gloat?" Hal asks, jaw clenched tight. "Just one time in your life could you  _not_  fucking gloat?"  
  
"I'm curious," Sinestro ignores him. "Is hate something all humans need to feel to have sex? Or are you, Hal Jordan, just so broken inside that it's the only way you can really  _enjoy_  it?"  
  
Hal swings his legs over the side of the bed, slides his ring on and slams a green fist into Sinestro's mouth.  
  
"Maybe I don't hate you," Hal sneers. " _Maybe_  I tell you that because it's what I know you want to hear. Maybe that's what I keep telling you because you couldn't fucking handle what I actually want to say."  
  
Sinestro turns his nose up, wipes the blood from his mouth. "Don't be ridiculous, Jordan," he says. "You don't actually --" Sinestro shakes his head. "You hate me. You  _loathe_  me."  
  
"Yeah," Hal says. "Keep telling yourself that."


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agents of SHIELD, Mac/Fitz, petrichor

"Ah," Coulson says after they step off the boat somewhere in Brazil. "I do love the smell of petrichor."  
  
Daisy gives him a funny look, wrinkles her nose up. "Petri-what now?"  
  
"Petrichor," Coulson says and before he can finish explaining Mac and Fitz jump in.  
  
"The smell of dust after rain," they says together, turning to give each other a sly grin.   
  
"Weirdos," Daisy mutters and walks ahead of them.  
  
  
: : :  
  
  
It was after Gemma was taken from him again, after the monolith swallowed her up like nothing he'd ever seen before.   
  
Mac had come to his room, turned on the lights, and popped a flash drive into the side of Fitz's tv, shoved Fitz over on the bed so he could have room and started playing Doctor Who without a word.  
  
It shouldn't have worked -- and for the most part it didn't, it was still always there in the back of his mind, but for that hour that he was following the Doctor around through time and space, Mac a strong, solid presence at his side, he could almost pretend like everything was going to be okay.   
  
  
: : :  
  
  
The other thing didn't happen until weeks later, after their little Doctor Who therapy session turned into waiting impatiently each week for the new episode, crowding together on Fitz's bed, Mac pointing out mechanical mishaps in the story, Fitz pointing out the scientific errors.   
  
The other thing didn't happen until the night after they got Gemma back, Fitz pacing the floor of the lab, chewing on his bottom lip until Mac grabbed him by the arms to anchor him and Fitz just -- he kissed him.  
  
He kissed Mac because Gemma was back and he thought, he thought that'd be the most wonderful thing he could imagine, but now his brain was going in eleven different directions and he felt unsteady again, felt like everything was jumbled up and slipping away from him again, just like before. He felt like that until he kissed Mac and then --  
  
Then everything just sort of fell into place.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCU, Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne, When you get that look, nobody is safe / it's why I first fell in love with you

It’s just a look.   
  
A look that can set Hal’s teeth on edge and make him drop to his knees all at once. A look that makes him shove Bruce away, then pull him back only to bruise Bruce’s mouth with his all in the same breath.  
  
All Bruce ever has to do is give him that  _look_ , whether it's behind the cowl or not, and it always, always gets Hal’s blood pumping, gets him hot and hard and angry and  _hungry_ , makes him bite back at everything Bruce says, then shove him up against the wall half an hour later, begging Bruce to fuck him, fill him up.   
  
Sometimes it’s dangerous -- a warning.  _Back the fuck off, Jordan_ , but that’s why Hal likes it so much. That’s why he keeps coming back, pushing and pushing until Bruce either fights him or fucks him, loves him or hates him.  
  
And Hal honestly isn’t even sure which he wants more.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green Lantern (comics), Thaal Sinestro/Hal Jordan, Teacher/Student AU

"I just want you to know," the boy says when he walks into his classroom on the first day, all the bravado and cocksure swagger of a high school senior, leaning onto his desk with his hands planted on Sinestro's grade book, "you don't scare me."  
  
Sinestro folds his arms over his chest and waits for the rest, because of course there's more. This boy's mouth has probably gotten him into trouble more times than he can count.  
  
"Yeah, I've heard all the stories," the boy says. "Hard ass. Homework every single night. Borderline psychotic."  
  
"Don't forget verbally and mentally abusive," Thaal adds casually as he turns around, writes his name on the whiteboard as the rest of the students pour into class.   
  
"Yep, those too," the boy says. "I just wanted to say, do your worst Mr. Sinestro, 'cause I'm not going anywhere."  
  
"Pity," Thaal says to the boy's wide, too bright grin. "Take your seat, Jordan. It's time for class."  
  
  
***  
  
  
"You shouldn't be here," Thaal says when the boy slips into his classroom one afternoon. The tips of his hair are wet and his face is red and Thaal assumes he must have just finished with football practice. He seems the sort.   
  
"Yeah well," Jordan says, hopping up on the edge of his desk. "You probably shouldn't be staring at my ass all the time. Whatcha gonna do?"  
  
"Jordan," Thaal says, pushing away from his desk. "I will say this once and only once, do you understand?"  
  
Hal nods.   
  
"You are insufferable, intolerable, and I have never quite wanted to inflict violence upon a student as often as I have with you."  
  
Hal's blindingly smug grin falters a little.   
  
"You are also beautiful and quite brilliant and I am not a good man. You should  _leave_."  
  
"I told you," Hal says, licking his lips. "You don't scare me."  
  
"That," Thaal says, cupping Hal's face, "is very dangerous."  
  
"Do your worst, Mr. Sinestro," Hal grins, so Thaal does.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green Lantern (comics), Thaal Sinestro/Hal Jordan, Student/teacher AU: Over his desk

"What did I tell you," Sinestro says next to Hal's ear. "About running that smart mouth of yours in my class?"  
  
"That it gets you hard?" Hal asks and grinds his ass back against Sinestro, biting his lip when he realizes just how right he is.   
  
"Yes," Sinestro says, his hand playing right above the waist of Hal's jeans. "Except I believe my exact words were  _you will regret it._ "  
  
"Hnngh," Hal says when he feels Sinestro's teeth on his neck, rolls his hips back against him again and this time Sinestro really digs his teeth in and the pain is bright and deep and it makes Hal rut against the desk when he thinks about the mark that's going to leave. "Yeah, really regretting this."  
  
"You will," Sinestro tells him as he finally, finally pops open the button on Hal's jeans, nipping at his ear. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit, Jordan."  
  
He gets Hal's jeans down, grabs his hips and ruts against him. "I'm going to take distinct pleasure in watching you squirm in my classroom tomorrow, unable to think about anything except how I bent you over my desk and took you like the little cockslut you are."  
  
"Jesus," Hal groans. "Are you going to fuck me or are you gonna monologue me to death?"  
  
Sinestro snorts. "Oh," he says. "Indeed."  
  
  
: : :  
  
  
The next day Sinestro hands out a pop quiz as soon as the students walk in the door, leans back in his chair and watches Jordan squirm and flush, looking up at the front of the class every five minutes to glare at him before going back to his test.   
  
Sinestro collects the quizzes at the end of class and smirks when he sees Jordan's, one or two problems filled out messily, then a giant  _FUCK YOU_  written across the rest.  
  
Perhaps Jordan has learned his lesson.  
  
Sinestro isn't counting on it. 


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Hart/Eggsy Unwin, Harry secretly has a tattoo

"Harry, god. Get your -- fuckin' gotta wear so many damn clothes, I just want --"  
  
Eggsy stops when he sees Harry's reflection in the mirror, his shirt hanging off one arm, his trousers pushed down to his knees. He looks like a real life fucking wet dream except for the --  
  
"Harry, is that?"  
  
"Oh dear," Harry sighs.  
  
"Is that Mr. Fuckin' _Pickles_ on your arse cheek?" Eggsy asks, slightly hysterical.  
  
"It is," Harry says. "Now may we continue?"  
  
Eggsy lifts an eyebrow at Harry and crosses his arms. They look quite the ridiculous pair, Harry standing there with his pants around his ankles and Eggsy covered in Harry's teeth marks and not a stitch else, but Eggsy has _got_ to hear this.   
  
"Oh fine," Harry says. "It was a bet, if you must know. Thank Merlin, the bloody twit."  
  
"What," Eggsy says, trying not to laugh. "What was the bet?"  
  
Harry looks him straight in the face and says, "That I wouldn't get it."  
  
Eggsy burst out laughing. "Harry, you're fuckin' mad, you know that?"  
  
"Mm," Harry says. "It's been said before, I belive. _Now_ may we continue?"  
  
"I dunno," Eggsy smirks. "Maybe we should ask Mr. Pickles first."  
  
He totally deserves the swat on his ass Harry gives him for that, but he's not complaining.


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne, the first time ever I saw your face

"The first time I saw your face, I thought you looked like the world's biggest asshole."  
  
Hal, master of inappropriate moments and bad timing, says this with Bruce's head between his thighs, one hand buried in his hair, the other gripping the headboard behind him. Bruce doesn't miss a beat, but he does raise an eyebrow at him, which still somehow has a menacing effect even with his mouth wrapped around Hal's dick.   
  
"Still do," Hal says, struggled to bite back a moan. "God, fuck. Your _mouth._ "  
  
"The first time I saw you," Bruce says after he makes Hal come completely undone, after Hal comes so hard he feels like he's been turned inside _out_ , wiping at the corners of his mouth with Hal's discarded shirt. "I wanted to punch you right in your atrociously bright green face."  
  
He climbs on top of Hal and kisses him hard, bruising, the kind of kiss Hal will feel on him long after Bruce has left. "Still do."


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: DCU Bombshells, Mera/Diana, And I die when you mention his name / And I lie I should have kissed you / When we were running in the rain

Diana's fists clench under the table as she watches Arthur spin Mera around the dance floor. Steve is sitting next to her talking about this or that, asking her questions here and there about Themiscira that Diana answers dodgingly, her attention constantly elsewhere.   
  
The way Mera laughs when Arthur dips her -- it shakes Diana right to her core. She remembers the first time she heard Mera laugh like that, musical and carefree, the way Mera had leaned in and kissed her afterward, right in the middle of a summer storm, as if it was nothing.   
  
Mera's always been a free spirit. She's always made her own way, did whatever she wanted, whatever made her happy at that moment. She never knew how much Diana loved her -- truly loved her, not some fleeting, flirtatious tryst, but a deep, consuming love that made Diana _ache_ with loneliness when Mera was off on one of her adventures.   
  
She should have kissed her back. Should have kissed her so many times after that first time in the rain, should have _told_ her the way she feels about her, but --  
  
"Di _ana_ ," Mera says, gracefully sitting herself in Diana's lap and wrapping her arms around her neck. "Why aren't you dancing? What's wrong, Low Tide over here a bad partner?"  
  
Diana just smiles and brushes Mera's hair out of her eyes, wipes some of the lipstick away that's smudged in the corner of her mouth. "No," she says. "He's just fine."


End file.
